Page 52 of Charming Her Monsters

“Hey, I get it. This is already a lot,” I say gently as I stroke his sides affectionately. I want to lean forward and kiss him or stroke his cheek, but it feels like too much for his first experience. “Sweetheart, I never want to make you feel bad.”

“You… you called me sweetheart.”

“Is that okay?”

His smile lights up my entire being. “Yes. May I call you a name of endearment too?”

I giggle. I almost roll my eyes at myself for the silly sound I make, but he’s so flipping sweet. “Of course you can. You can even try out different names until you find something you like.”

“Thank you for being you, beautiful soul.” He sets me down on my feet and takes a hesitant step back.

I’m flustered because I miss his solid body against mine. Even in its supposed soft form, it’s almost as hard as stone. And if I’m not mistaken, he was getting harder below the belt.

“May I hold your hand?” he asks shyly.

“Anytime you’d like.” I slide my tiny hand within his massive one, and I shiver with the thought of his hands holding me in other places.

“Are you done with the mating dance yet?” my obnoxious guinea pig familiar says with his tiny hands on his hips. His beady little eyes glare at me.

“We weren’t mating,” I gruff.

Flint turns a brighter shade of peach.

“Did you have something to say? Or are you just acting out your name?” I ask my little furry brat. I recall how, even though I never knew he was a magical creature, I occasionally sensed his snarkiness.

He scurries from the room and tells me, “Shut the door and come with me.”

“He wants me to follow him and close this door,” I translate for my gargoyle.

“Sounds like a bossy little thing,” Flint mutters and does as the furry boss says.

“Wait until he demands treats,” I joke.

“Treats! Where?” After his outburst of excitement, Trouble huffs when he realizes I’m treatless. “Damn you, witch. That was mean. Unless you are hiding something…”

“You’ll get some treats if you just get on with whatever you want to tell us and stop being sassy.”

Trouble sniffs indignantly and continues, “I think… I think Floofer is a spy.”

“Floofs? The hamster is a spy?” An icky feeling of betrayal washes over my body.

“Goddess dammit,” Flint growls.

I try to remember but can’t recall everything from the other day. “Does Floofer talk?”

“A little. I didn’t think he could understand much,” Trouble explains. “He seems… to have simple thoughts, like Sage. But now, I’m not so sure.”

“Is that why Calder ran out of here in a panic?” I ask.

“Tonight, Floofer opened the ward on the bedroom door with his mind. I saw a shimmer around him. He felt odd. By the time the birdman listened to me, Floofer was gone. I don’t know if he also suspects Floofer of being a spy. I didn’t have time to say anything.”

“If he isn’t a magical creature, what could Floof be?” I ask.

“Wherecould he be?” Flint scans the hallway and growls low, rumbling my body with the vibration.

Holy clitatory.

Flint doesn’t even know how sexy he is. So protective, and I wonder what four hundred years of repression would be like unleashed in the bedroom. My body heats and thrums with anticipation.

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