Page 298 of Evil Hearts

I grimace, swallowing several times to rid my mouth of the rank aftertaste, and toss the empty glass back to him.

“That shit’s disgusting.”

He laughs, returning the glass to its place on the table.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says.

With a flick of one of his claws, he removes the silver bands from my wrists and tucks them into his pants pocket. I massage the skin where they’ve been, rubbing life back into my hands, and reach for my ability to shapeshift in vain. I’m keenly aware that this room blocks my magic, but I try every time, nevertheless.

Maybe one of these days the magic blockers will wane, and I’ll find a tiny window for escape.

“How long did they pay for?” I ask, ushering away intrusive thoughts. Now isn’t the time to consider running away; I have a job to do.

Sparky chuckles and presses his hand flat against the second door until a tiny click resonates throughout the room.

“There is no time limit.”

I swallow hard.

Shit.

If there’s no time limit, whoever’s waiting on the other side of that door clearly has a lot of money and probably power. I’m at their disposal until they tire of me.

There’s no telling how long I’ll be trapped inside that room.

“Get to work,” Sparky says, dropping his voice. He pushes open the door and shoves me hastily inside, sending me stumbling over the threshold and catching my balance with a curse.

By the time I turn around to yell at him, the door is sealed again.

Fucking coward.

“You must be the shapeshifter,” a voice purrs from behind me, sending chills down my spine.

I turn slowly, bracing myself for whatever kind of monstress awaits, and I’m taken aback by the form draped over the cream-colored chaise lounge.

Wearing a shimmering pink dress that dips low in the front and ties around her neck, it shows off her ash-colored skin and stunning blue eyes. Not one of the lighter shades that humans normally have, but bold, royal blue. Four horns curl out elegantly from her forehead and spiral backward while long silver hair cascades behind her, spilling around her in a glittering wave. Her red lips curl with a curious smirk.

The first thing I notice about her after I drink in every detail of her appearance is her posture. She’s not waiting for me hungrily as most of my clients do, nor is she rushing to throw herself at me. She looks casual, comfortable, and radiates the ethereal beauty of a goddess.

Obviously, she’s in no rush to do the deed, but I feel the effects of the potion starting to kick in. My blood warms, and heat pools in the pit of my stomach. It won’t be long before I’m armed with a raging boner I can’t control, and my libido takes over.

“I am,” I say, dipping my head.

For a moment, neither of us moves. I watch her carefully, drinking in every detail about her, and struggle to find something to say.

I shuffle my feet on the ground. Normally, I’m not this tense or flustered, but something about this monstress has bells ringing in my head. Not alarm bells, but definitely something.

Recognition?Impossible. I’ve never seen her in my life.

Interest?

To disguise my discomfort and distract myself, I move to kick my shoes off by the bed. I debate hauling off my T-shirt and starting a pile of discarded clothing on the floor, but something tells me to wait. If the monstress isn’t in a hurry, why should I be?

At the very least, taking my time gets me out of my room for a little longer, and while I’m still surrounded by four walls and locked doors, the change of scenery is a relief.

She shifts on the lounge chair and sits on the edge, her eyes glued to my movements. When I meet her gaze, the faintest flutter rolls through my center.

That’s got to be the potion. It’s working faster than normal today.

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