The Wheel of Fate (Twisted by Tarot Book 1) by Mia Elliot

Author:Mia Elliot [Elliot, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-25T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Knox

My mind is screaming at me to run.

I watch the car drive away; Bailey turns in the backseat and looks at me until the car turns past some trees, and I can’t see her anymore.

No way in hell am I letting some random guy at this wedding hook up with my mate.

I debate following the car. I can still hear it in the distance, so it wouldn’t be too late to catch up and keep enough distance so that Bailey doesn’t notice me. But my body is vibrating with frustration. I can’t stand the thought of her with someone else, but how do I intervene if it comes to that? Just show up and potentially crash her best friend’s wedding? No doubt that’d make her hate me.

I let out a loud howl, desperate to release some pent-up frustration, when a familiar feeling gnaws at the pit of my stomach with ferocity. I feel my power come flooding back, my body twitching and shifting as clumps of fur fall away. It seems the magic leeched from me every day I couldn’t shift has finally paid the tarot’s toll. Paws turn to hands, and I find myself back in human form, stark naked on Bailey’s deck, with the sunlight caressing every bit of my bare skin.

Fuck, I’ve missed this.

I love how it feels to stand and move on two feet again. I stretch my arms over my head and wiggle the stiffness out of my limbs as I shift my weight from side to side. It feels so damn good to be me again.

And more importantly, the me that Bailey needs and deserves.

I look around, unsure of what I should do for clothes. I don’t have any here, and my house is too far away to stop there. I’ll miss too much of the wedding and risk Bailey meeting someone or something … happening.

I force the thought out of my head as I look at her kitchen window. From what I’ve seen, she never locks it. She probably feels she doesn’t need to, living way out here. I press my hands to the glass and slide, happy when it opens easily. I climb through and over the counter, my feet thudding softly on the wooden floor.

I wander through the house, this delightful feeling of contentment overtaking me. I’ve sat in the cabin’s doorway many times, watching her while she goes about her day, but I’ve never stepped inside. The place is flooded with scents and signs of her. Little notes on the fridge in her handwriting. Things she leaves lying about, like hair ties and books. I like gathering this story of her life, imagining her in the rooms I’d not seen, like the bathroom and bedroom.

Her bedroom is painted a smoky blue, not at all what I expected. Little pops of pastel yellow in pillows, a throw blanket, and the drapes give a touch of warmth to the space. The way the space is decorated is simple but beautiful, and my

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