Page 73 of Shifted Desire

I’m freaking out too much to comment on how stark his bedroom is, and when he hands me a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, I take them and hurry off into the bathroom even though it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked a dozen times now.

I stare at myself in the mirror, yelling at my addled brain to get my shit together and stop having all these soft, mushy feelings and interest in Nathan.

He doesn’t want me like that.

No one ever does, so why the hell would a man like him be the exception?

I’m just in a weird mood because of the conversation with my mom and pent up jealousy over Max and his stupid perfect relationship and impending nuptials, and Claire’s pregnancy, and Maggie’s happy family, and Mom and Dad’s bizarre happiness after so many years, and fuck, now I’m going to cry.

Stop it!

Stop being so stupid and emotional.

I don’t want any of those things. I don’t need them. I’m here to have amazing sex and experience the thrill of doing something taboo. I’m here because I need the money and working for Nathan is better than any other job I’ve had. Nothing else.

I grit my teeth and force the tears back, tugging off my dress and throwing it on the sink next to the stack of clothes Nathan gave me. With a determined exhale, I mutter an incantation and trace the small spellmark on my inner thigh to shift into my demon form.

Heat spreads through me, pushing the agitating, inconvenient feelings I don’t want to the background. I stretch out my wings and roll my shoulders back before stepping out into the bedroom again.

Nathan’s mouth drops open, stopping mid pulling his t-shirt on to gawk at me.

“I’m much more comfortable now.”

27

Samantha smooths a hand down her side, caressing the side of her breast before resting it on her hip with a come-hither smile. My dick jolts to life like it’s been electrified, all the blood in my body flooding south.

She’s stunning.

It’s almost too much, her light pink skin iridescent in the low light of my bedroom, like she’s lit from the inside by all the desire her succubus form contains. In my imagination, I never pictured the adorable small pink wings and horns, having only ever seen one succubus in the flesh before, and that was Elle, who isn’t part witch.

She’s nothing like Elle, thank the gods.

No, she’s still entirely Samantha, and you can practically see the magic from her father thrumming under her skin as she glitters, her hair taking on a silver-white sheen and fluttering as if blown by a phantom breeze.

Her feathery-tipped tail sways behind her, the slightly nervous movement the only betrayal of her projected confidence.

Because as gorgeous and magnetic as she is, and as much as every molecule in my body wants her so badly it hurts, I see her game.

She’s using her demon form as a mask. Using sex to try to distract me from something.

I’m beginning to realize that Samantha is predictable. What might seem like a chaotic and acerbic personality to others has revealed itself to be a defense mechanism. Sam pivots hard when something upsets her so she doesn’t have to face those feelings.

I swallow hard against the growling monster inside me, demanding I claim this sex goddess offering herself to me, and force myself to focus past it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, voice strained.

She frowns, her tail whipping back and forth even as she holds her cocky, seductive pose. “Huh?”

“I thought you were only going to show me this side of you when I bought you a yacht.” I do my best to keep my tone light so she doesn’t misinterpret my words as a rejection.

Gods, I don’t want to screw this up. Deep within me, even more powerful and instinctual than the need to rut, is the need to protect. The need to show Samantha that she’s safe with me. That I can handle whatever messy thoughts or emotions she has, and be her shelter through the storm of whatever goes on in that beautiful, complicated mind of hers.

Are those kinds of thoughts way too fucking dangerous to be having? Yes. But I have a naked, vulnerable woman in my house that I care deeply about, so it doesn’t matter if we’re moving into forbidden emotional territory.

“You’re seriously questioning that when I’m standing here in all my succubus glory?” she scoffs, her shoulders stiffening. “Don’t you want a closer look?”

Fuck yes, I do. There’s a pulse of seductive energy from her, but after all the time we’ve spent together, the forced nature of it stands out like a warning beacon.