Page 42 of Her Psycho Beasts

Lyle growls in his chest, presumably from his over eagerness or overfamiliarity with first name use.

I sense all four males listening closely as I clear my throat. “I just need some of your DNA. I…mean, I just need to touch you in your shifted form.”

“That’s it?” he chirps.

I didn’t know it was possible for a grown beast to get quite this excited.

“That’s it,” I confirm.

Damien nods and turns around, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it off one of the coat hangers on the clothes rack the students use to hang their clothes before they go into the jungle gym. His shirt follows, exposing the unmarked, fleshy milky-white skin of his back. He unbuckles his belt and bends over to pull down his pants.

I narrow my eyes at his white ass before Lyle tugs at my elbow.

“Angel,” my lion admonishes, tugging me around to face him.

I let out a nervous laugh, looking up into those powerful amber eyes, currently simmering with disapproval. “Sorry.”

He reaches out to stroke the pad of his thumb against my cheek, and by the Wild Goddess, I am so distracted by him that I forget why I’m even there. Until, that is, a burst of light and heat erupts from behind me, followed by a high-pitched, ethereal cry that reverberates all around us.

Slowly, I turn around.

My breath catches as I take in my first ever sight of a phoenix. If I didn’t hate Damien so much, I’d admit that his shifted form is breathtakingly stunning.

With plumage of a brilliant, out of this world, glittering red-gold and a wingspan twice the size of mine in eagle form, Damien flaps his wings to settle down on golden claws. His neck is long and regal, a proud tuft of red plumage marking his crown above golden eyes that arrogantly regard us. His tail feathers are fluffy and shimmery, so long they drape across the floor like the train of a king’s coronation cloak. He’s bigger than I expected, his crown feathers reaching my shoulder.

Xander sniffs, making sure to let us all know he’s unimpressed.

Damien ignores him, taking a step forward and bobbing his head to give me permission. Or anorder, I suppose.

Lyle’s hand never leaves my waist as he follows me while I reach a hand out to touch the most polite place on a bird—the outside of his wing. Fascinated by the brilliance of the red feathers and the way they glitter with gold, I stroke the feathers of Damien’s wing more times than is polite. It’s not until Lyle clears his throat that I shake myself out of my daze and abruptly straighten, staring at my fingers because I half expect golden flecks to coat them.

They don’t, of course, and instead I feel a slight tingling travelling up my fingers and palm. The sensation continues all the way through my shoulder until it hits my head and then I feel a little dizzy.

Any doubt of my ability to turn into a phoenix abruptly leaves me. With new power flooding my veins and a thread of excitement, I step away from Lyle’s grip and whip off my blouse and unbutton my shorts. Turning away from the men, I kick off my shoes…until I realise I’d put on a bright red G-string this morning.

But I’m already here now.

And if Damien Agnis really wants to see my assthatmuch, he may as well.

So I give myself a little shrug and pull my shorts down.

I actuallyfeelLyle’s panic behind me. “Angel, wait?—”

And then I slip the G-string off too, kicking it behind me.

With my back turned, hopefully none of them can see I’m grinning madly. Perhaps Iammad, because this whole thing is leaving me flushed and giddy, but there is something flooding my veins now and it feels positively sparkly.

An eagle might have been my favourite form because I’d never considered a phoenix being an actual lifetime option of mine.

I get to be a real life phoenix. The stuff of dreams.

It takes a second of a thought of me shifting into the powerful, mythical bird for it to happen. Maybe I find it easy because it’s so similar to my eagle form, but my face morphs into the familiar beak, my arms sprouting feathers, my height shrinking only a little, my feet forming golden claws. I’m light and airy, hollow-boned and…powerful.

I want to cry. Instead, I look down and angle my newly formed wing so I can see it.

It’s something I’ve never seen before, in books or otherwise: my feathers are brilliant crimson-gold, tipped with an electric blue.

Chapter 21

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