Witch's Reign (Desert Cursed Series Book 1) by Shannon Mayer

Author:Shannon Mayer [Mayer, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781987933376
Publisher: Hijinks Ink Publishing
Published: 2018-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

The morning came—or what passed for morning here in the northern clime. I woke with a shiver, and twisted to look at the fire dying. I shifted into my human form and stood far too fast. My head throbbed and my tongue was thick with the distant taste of plum liquor. I grabbed a few smaller pieces of wood and laid them on the glowing coals. I got the fire going hot again, building it up quickly. The least we could do for whoever this shack belonged to was leave it as we found it. Warm.

Maks lay on his belly, snoring lightly into the blankets of the bed. I stared at him, thinking hard. What happened last night? Had something gone on that I was not remembering?

The kiss came back to me in a flood of sensation that made me want to strip down and crawl into the bed with him and see if the sensations were real, or just a fantasy. I cringed and backed away, horrified at my own thoughts. I opened the door and went out to the horses, the cold air cooling my overheated skin. While it was still cold out, the temperature had risen to survivable instead of full-on killing.

Whatever magic had been driving it was gone. The horses were fine, toasty in their makeshift shed, their heads low as they slept soundly.

Which meant I had nothing to do but go back inside the shack. With Maks. Whose lap I’d sat in as I’d kissed him and he’d kissed back and I still wanted to kiss. A human who I’d pretty much invited to mark me as his. Shit, had I truly lost my mind? Just the day before, I’d been ready to run from him, leave him to the literal wolves. And now, here I was struggling with desires I had no reason to have. None at all. If my indecision had ever had a high point, this was it.

There was one upside, though, that I could see.

“We had a lot of liquor, maybe he won’t remember,” I whispered to myself, my hand on the door.

“He probably won’t,” a male voice said behind me.

I whipped around, drawing my kukri blades so fast, they sang against their sheaths.

The man behind me was dressed in proper winter gear, all lined with fur from the cloak and the edge of his pants to his boots and gloves. He held up his hands and swept the cloak back so I could see his face. He was younger than I’d have thought with a grin that spoke of trouble and magic. Brown hair, brown eyes, seemingly an average guy. Which set my alarm bells ringing.

“What are you?” I didn’t lower my blades.

“That’s rude. You’re not supposed to ask people what they are.” He tsked at me.

I let out a low growl. “Rude doesn’t even begin to cover me, buddy. What the fuck are you?”

I didn’t want him to get close enough that I would be able to tell myself. Something about him made my skin itch.

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