A Familiar Magic: Lucifer Thatch's Education of Witchery (Son of a Succubus Series Book 1) by Sarina Dorie

Author:Sarina Dorie [Dorie, Sarina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: amazon.com
Published: 2019-12-11T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cinderfella

Lucifer’s head swam in a muddled haze. He wandered out of the closet and darted out the door when Clarissa went outside. He was sick again, and his bowels turned to liquid, but he was hardly lucid enough to remember much more. He thought he recalled something about a flock of ravens circling overhead, but it might have been a dream. He felt woozy and strange, unable to focus as the pains coursed through him.

Eventually he found himself in the sanctuary of the closet again.

He had no idea how much time had passed. Several times he heard Abigail say his name as she came looking for him. He wanted to respond, to meow and tell her he was near and that he wasn’t well, but he couldn’t make his vocal cords work. At some point, he was aware of Abigail opening the closet door and throwing laundry in the basket, but the room was dim, and she didn’t notice him.

He lay on his side resting as the effects of the magic slowly faded. It was dark by the time he became fully aware of his surroundings and in control of himself. He listened to the sound of Abigail’s shallow breathing coming from the bed.

The air in the closet was stuffy and smelled foul. Earlier he must have smashed the laundry basket because it now had flattened sides, clothes spilling out onto Abigail’s tidy rows of shoes. He’d gotten his whiskers caught in a purse’s zipper, and he held the leather down to wrench his face free. The pain was enough to make him roar, but his throat was raw, and the only sound that came out was a hoarse cough.

His limbs shook as he rose on all four limbs. His body felt clumsy and wrong. He hit his head against the wall, cushioned only slightly by a fluffy dress zipped in a garment bag. Lucifer felt sticky, vomit clinging to him and assaulting his nostrils. He slid the closet door aside with his face and climbed out.

The room seemed darker than usual, but he was able to make out the shape of Abigail in bed. His belly cramped with hunger, and dizziness washed over him. He still didn’t feel like himself. He crawled over to her bed, wanting to snuggle up against her and feel the comfort of her arms around him. Only, he didn’t want to soil her bed after he’d been sick and taint her blankets with his filth.

He also knew he wasn’t going to be able to give himself a bath on his own or get himself more food. The door to her room was open, and he considered venturing to the kitchen for a drink of water to slake his parched throat, but he didn’t want to track his mess over her carpet. He hated being so dependent on someone else to care for him.

Reluctantly, Lucifer dug his paws into the mattress and hauled himself up. He was surprised by how easy it was to lift himself that high.

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