Way Down We Go: A Paranormal Shifter Romance by Andrea Jenelle

Author:Andrea Jenelle [Jenelle, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Willow Creek Publishing
Published: 2023-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

the fruits: Paris Paloma

Meghan

I’ve been herded into rooms full of seamstresses and makeup artists for the last three days. I’m convinced his Aunt Ariana is more than a dragon. I think she’s the mother of all dragons. She could seriously give Daenerys a run for her money, and she’d sic her flame throwing minions on dissenters so fast they’d be burnt to a crisp before they even knew what was happening. I don’t think she would’ve had any trouble subjugating the realms and establishing her empire. She has me listening to an intensive language absorption class, insisting I’ll learn Gaelic and Elvish through some weird form of auditory osmosis. So far it isn't working. I can barely manage a greeting in Gaelic and I mangle Elvish words beyond recognition.

Every spare minute she can squeeze into the day is spent tracing a symbol over and over with charcoal and drawing paper. “You need to be able to draw it in your sleep,” she insists.

I walk around all day with a ruler down my back and a book the size of War and Peace balanced on my head. When I insisted I’d always been very particular about maintaining proper posture she’d just raised an imperious brow (now I know where he gets it from) and shook her head.

When he asked if I wanted the chance to escape my cage for the afternoon, I said yes with no hesitation.

When we reached the beach, he stripped, folded his clothes, and hid them behind a clump of rocks. I thought I was going to get an encore of the morning salutation I received earlier in the week. Even though it was recent enough to be fresh in my memory, I’d welcome a reminder of what it was like. But he didn’t strip to show me he’s irresistible. Instead, he just shifted into his each uisge form.

It’s the first time I’ve seen his other half. He’s a huge black stallion, and he’s beautiful. He looks like a Friesian with shaggy fetlocks and a shiny coat. His mane and tail ripple in the breeze and he nudges me with his nose, begging for affection.

I stroke my hand over his muzzle and his nostrils flare as he tosses his head.

This is his true form. The arch of his neck graceful, his eyes dark and full of shadows I want to get lost in. He still has his insanely long eyelashes, and when he dips his head it looks like he’s flirting. Like a coquette trying to fool you into thinking she’s shy behind a fan. He’s working it and I can tell he’s as cocksure of his beauty and appeal as a horse as he is when he’s a guy who has a woman pressed up against him in an elevator.

He bends toward the sand, and kneels before me, one leg stretched in front for balance, the others tucked beneath him so he can easily surge upward. He tilts his head in the direction of his hindquarters and I know he wants me to clamber aboard.

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