Shifting back into human form, I rose from my crouch, the light reflecting off my nakedness. I gathered up my rags of clothing and managed to clothe most of myself. Luckily I’d been wearing a reasonably loose shirt. My ragged pants covered my ass, but not much else.
Striding forward, I shoved back strands of black hair which had fallen across my face. At least I seemed to be back in control of my senses and body, and the pain was gone. The jinn’s spell was dissipating and I couldn’t be more grateful.
I was going to rewrite those fucking history books. There was no way they properly prepared me for the piss-myself-fear the mere presence of a jinn had induced.
I reached for the handle on the forest door, expecting it to be locked, but it clicked open without any effort and I was hit with a blast of damp warmth and the scent of home.
The moment I opened the door, the forest started to intrude through the doorway, vines snaking inside. Okay, that wasn’t normal plant behavior, unless this vegetation was filled to the brim with magic, which, recalling the cunning in the jinn’s eyes, was a very real possibility. The general vibe from the elemental hadn’t indicated that it was sending me off for a nice, relaxing holiday.
I took a hesitant step, slowing my breathing until there was virtually no sound from me except the rush of pulse and beat of heart. Even I couldn’t hide those from beings with advanced senses. But still, I needed to be cautious until I knew for certain there was nothing out there but Braxton.
My creeping was slow, silently placing one bare foot in front of another, the ground prickly – soft undergrowth, but there were sticks, stones and other unknowns. I thought briefly of shifting to wolf again. I knew I was faster in my other form, but I wanted to focus, and while my wolf could be the queen of focus at times, if a rabbit bounded past I was screwed. I was scanning as fast as my eyes could process images, my nose elevated as if that would help with the detection of enemy.
Outside the door of the cabin the landscape was overgrown, tangled, ancient. Forest, but unlike any I’d seen before. I catalogued the scene: trees, vines, bushy undergrowth and large, probably poisonous, pink flowers, the kind that drooped over and had some sort of sticky dew rolling out of their center. They lured their prey in with beauty and then killed them.
Where the hell am I? This place was one giant plate of freak-me-the-hell-out.
The growling started again, louder than before, coming from the left, sort of through the vines and on the other side of the round cabin. There was no clear path for me to take, blocked in a cage of greenery so tightly interwoven that I had no idea how to get through. Shifting my hands into claws, I started to rake across vines in the direction of the growl.
It took me a while, but I managed to force a path, the vegetation scratching my exposed arms, but I barely noticed. A flash of black and blue caught my eyes and my heart rate both sped and calmed at the sight. I knew those scales. Braxton was close. But, judging by the vinery around that scaled leg, he was pretty tangled in the vegetation.
I let my claws fade away and whispered in his direction, keeping my tone low and soothing. “Shift back, Brax, you’re too large to fit through this dense undergrowth.”
The growling cut off, and I knew he was working to calm himself. I could sense a minute variation in the air. Usually it was very distinct when a shifter pulled energy to change, but the air here felt so dense with power it dulled everything else. Still, I knew when he was shifting back. And sure enough, within seconds the scales had disappeared. Then I heard the most beautiful sound in the world. Braxton.
“Jessa babe … are you okay?”
He was trying to be calm, but the undercurrents of stress strained his voice. The forest rustled as he plowed through to where I stood. Unlike me, he seemed to be cutting a path no problem. His face appeared in a small gap and he wasted no time tearing a larger entrance. It felt as if we’d been apart years rather than mere moments. As more of him was visible, I saw he was wearing just a pair of low slung jeans. He must have removed his pants before shifting earlier. They’d never have survived the change to dragon.
My mouth went a little dry as I drank in the sight of him. Damn, those pants … they were really low, I could see each defined muscle of his two-hundred pack and that delicious “V” which men were blessed with as a tool to tempt women. The pathway to the goods, a pathway I’d like to lick my way along…
Wait, what? Down, hormones, down.