Khalia parted the black curtains, and her stomach lurched. Shelves lined with white, jelly-filled jars stretched before her, each one suspending grotesque insects in eerie stillness. The sight was bad enough, but when her gaze dropped to the two taxidermied gators crouched beneath the shelves, their beady glass eyes locked onto her, she screamed.

  It didn't have time crescendo before she tripped over a broken chair. Which wouldn't have been an issue if not for the gaping hole in the floor.

  Her arms flailed, instincts grasping for anything nearby to save her. A curse barely had time slip before a strong hand fisted the front of her tank top and yanked her back, slamming her into a solid chest. The force caused her to wheeze.

  "Behave."

  Diem's voice was filled with amusement, golden eyes glinting as he steadied her. His grip was firm yet unbothered, as if he hadn't just saved her from an untimely baptism. She scowled, prying his hand off as he guided her away.

  "Next time, just let me fall."

  "Tempting," He mused, inspecting the oddities that sent her shrieking, "But then who'd keep screaming at the decor?"

  She huffed. "It was warranted."

  He smirked, disappearing into a closet, leaving her to glare at his retreating form. Khalia raised her phone, its light cutting through the gloom. The place had been ransacked. Books were strewn across the floor, some floating in the water below, their pages curling from damp. She bent down, fingers brushing over the worn leather cover of a tome:

  Dissecting Incantations: From Novice to Expert.

  "What happened?" She mumbled more to herself.

  The stilted home was an enigma given its location. Outside, above the sluggish waters, a shack suffered, a ruined husk of dreams and rusted nails. But inside...inside they had their breaths taken by the bold color that painted the walls. Deep indigo, blood orange, emerald, it was clear to Khalia that Beatrice loves a statement.

  Art pieces moved, whether painting or statue, they danced to their own tunes. Sleek furniture looked alive floating inches off the ground. She nearly fainted when her hands touched the plush silk chaise, the urge to sleep and never beckoned to her. It was like walking into a different reality. Until they reached the dining room, where they stood currently.

  "She got the shit end of battle, that's what happened." Diem reappeared from the pantry, and she rolled her eyes as he bite into an apple, like they weren't standing in a mystery. He fished out his phone, tapping the screen and bring it to his ear.

  A breeze swept through the shack, carrying the weight of humidity and the droning hum of cicadas.

  "Hey, Witch, reach out to me when you get this message. We've made it to Beatrice's, but there's a problem."

  "Don't be ominous and vague," she snatched his arm and stood on her tiptoe, "Mavi! Your cousin isn't here, and her house is fucked! Real-life Oldboy hallway type fucked! Call back ASAP!"

  Dem yanked his arm free with a scowl.

  "Now she'll be worried."

  "Exactly, quicker response."

  She yawned and a silence stretched between them. Their exhaustion was a third entity in the room, clinging like the sweat on their skin. Seventeen hours on the road, and the only reward was a shack that looked like it had lost a fight with time and bad decisions. She tucked the tome under her arm, and hopscotched over debris toward the grand foyer, squinting at her phone's screen.

  9:27 PM

  The B&B they booked stopped check-in at 10pm.

  "So, since you're the expert in this sort a thing I'll be-"

  "You could be one too. It starts with being useful. Look around for anything out of the ordinary."

  "Everything's out of the ordinary. I'm tired, hungry, and smell like an elderly man's diaper."

  "Awe, well, I'll let the world know to take a break from revolving around you."

  "Aight. I'm done, fucker. I'll be outside."

  She spun on her heels, annoyance pooling off her. Diem smirk told her he felt it. Scowling, she grabbed the book and tucked it under her arm.

  Just because he drove the entire way, he thinks he can be a smartass. Nobody told him to do that.

  "To be fair, I think that's justifiable. This is your mission, and you haven't done anything worthwhile."

  Khalia groaned as Parasita's voice slithered through her mind. The beast yawned and a young Diem copied, lounging leisurely in her consciousness.

  "I booked the B&B!"

  "Which is nothing to brag about. Especially with a man. Your father should have taught you better."

  "Girl, bye."

  Grinding her teeth, she stomped down the sloped L-shaped ramp to land. Kaelridge Bayou stretched around them, the water dark and unwelcoming. Insects sang and birds called out to their friends as she tiptoed through the soggy land. Rest in peace to her Adidas. Annoyance made her brows furrow, as she thought back to their last gas station stop. His move to take the interstate instead of turning on the off ramp should have alerted her sooner.

  "Gian said the Midwest."

  "This is the Midwest."

  "No Sir, this is south. Arkansas is in the south..."

  "Some might say otherwise."

  "1861 says otherwise."

  She brooded the entire ride after.

  "There you are."

  Her shoulders sagged relief spotting the Toyota Tundra, its exterior caked in mud. She tossed the book in the back seat, then found a decently clean spot to lean against. Beatrice lived outside the city, another surprise for them. Thankfully Bathale was only ten minutes down the road. She frowned at the shack, waiting for the man to hurry.

  "Well, no reason to be bored. Come on, magic grass me."

  Parasita yipped, wagging her tail. Taking a paw, she slid young Diem from her side, waving him off.

  "Scram snitch."

  The pup glowered but obliged.

  Khalia snickered while pulling out her vape pen and taking a deep pull. The floral yet battery-burnt aftertaste made her cringe. Not as good as flower, but it'll do.

  A noise by the shack made cover her mouth, the smoke tickling her throat. She exhaled, fanning the vapor just as Diem stepped out. She watched him crouch, then sniff the wet ramp like a bloodhound. The darkness could no longer play tricks on her and she snickered, quietly watching him, before grabbing the truck handle.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "What humors you, Princess."

  Her skin prickled at the voice. Parasita released a soft whine, rolling belly-up, pinning her ears back. A heavy scent wafted in the warm air, intoxicating and electric. A presence pressed against her consciousness, waiting. Hesitantly, she looked back, eyes widening when she met Diem's gaze.

  Or should she say Dee's.

  Still crouched, his head tilted slightly, the black void of his irises swallowing the gold. His presence was suffocating, thick with something primal, it wrapped around her, gripping tight. Raw energy that slithered into her body and settled-rather unfairly, low in her belly. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

  A knowing smile spread across his face. Even freshly shaven, the dark stubble was already returning, shadowing his jawline.

  "Are you ready?" he asked, voice deep as sin.

  The cadence tingled her ears and a geyser erupted between her thighs. He had a way of making everything sound so soothing. While she was sure he was doing it on purpose, she'd never ask. Her pride and bottom shelf dignity won't allow it. Opening her mouth, she gave a nod.

  A damn nod.

  On cue, he smirked, and he strolled down the ramp to join her. Wordlessly they hopped in, Dee's body relaxing as he shifted gears and pulled off. She folded her arms, trying to look normal as she pressed her legs together.

  "Was...Diem tired?"

  "Yes," Dee murmured, "And I haven't been out since...your Fated's death. Until I can, this will do."

  Khalia grimaced, fingers scratching the bandages on her cheeks.

  "Not my Fated."

  "Anymore. Still counts."

  She scowled.

  "You really know how to dry a woman up."

  "Would you rather I lie? Besides, there's not an inch of you that's dry. Do you want to know how I know?"

  He mused, sliding a hand onto her thigh, kneading at the damp skin. Her stomach flipped; the roughness of his palm sending waves through her, an embarrassing and maddening experience. She growled.

  "It's the humidity. Drive faster, we're going to miss check in."

  Bathale.

  When they located Beatrice's, they were shocked to find her residence outside of the city. A tourist wet dream, Bathale was surrounded by cypress trees, woven into impenetrable spirals and loops, of massive and ancient. Only one road led in and out. The sight made her heart race.

  Dee veered onto unpaved road parallel to the city. In the distance a sprawling plantation house loomed close to the bayou. Its white paint gleamed eerily under the lantern-lit path leading up to the grand columns. Two rowboats bobbed at the dock and three other vehicles were parked in the designated lot. He pulled up next to one and cut the engine off.

  Much to her surprise, he didn't look back at her, didn't continue their game. Instead, he started grabbing their bags.

  Absolutely...unacceptable.

  "The fact that you think you can grope me, then ignore me after that vitriol is mind-boggling," she huffed, fumbling with her seatbelt. "You kiss a woman first before you grab her thighs, pervert! I don't know all the Lycan rules, but good manners go a long way."

  Dee's only response was a slow, deliberate turn of his head, his dark eyes glinting with something that made her breath hitch.

  "...Are you saying you want just a kiss?" Amusement soaked his voice. "I think you want more than that."

  He shifted to face her fully, his mannerisms different from Diems usual self. Even now, with the slight tilt of his head and the way his gaze pinned her.

  "Oh, and you know what I want? Gee, the sight was lost on me."

  Fanning her face, she opened the car door, sighing into the earthy air, mentally chided herself for the breathless reply.

  Why is his aura suffocating?

  "Besides being human?"

  Movement behind her caused her to seek him out. She tracked him like a hawk as he glided to her side. Before she could jump out herself, his hands gripped her thighs and slid her forward. Heat flared through her as he settled between her legs. The mesh shorts, stretched taunt, did nothing to shield her from the unmistakable pressure of his bricked-up dick. A devilish smile took his face.

  "Do you see what you do to me? You're behaving like a brat. Stop." His voice was thick with teasing.

  She couldn't see her own blush, but she felt it-felt it in the quickened beat of her pulse and the tremble of her exhale. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips side to side, evoking a strangled gasp. Dee chuckled before leaning in, his breath brushing against her ear.

  Peppermint.

  Sin and temptation wrapped in mint, and she was drowning in it.

  "Diem isn't too pleased with me at this moment. I can't blame him. Are you sure you want a kiss? Nothing else?"

  Her breath hitched.

  Eyes fluttered close as he planted a lazy, teasing kiss below her earlobe, trailing them down to her collarbone. Hands left her thighs, sliding to the small of her back, where fingertips ghosted over her skin. The sensation made her arch.

  "I have a feeling we'll be busy solving this mystery," His voice dripped with sweetness, "So, how about..." Another kiss, this time with grazing fangs. She flinched at the pressure, pulse stuttering. "We skip to the best part..."

  Khalia was practically goo; shorts damp with proof of him knowing exactly what she wanted. The urge to pant like a hound rose higher with each stroke across her clit.

  "B-best part being?"

  He pulled back just enough for her to see his face. The way his canines peeked out and ears pointed ever so slightly. His eyes sparkled jewels in the low light as he smiled, slow and wolfish.

  "You."

  "SWALLOWED. You're getting SWALLOWED! HUNCHED! You beautiful jaundice goblin!"

  Khalia barely registered Parasita's outburst. Her hands moved with purpose, wrapping around his neck and yanking him in. Their teeth clicked together in a messy clash, but his lips, soft and warm, with the right amount of rough-were absolute bliss.

  Maybe it was the foreplay.

  Maybe it was the flame she'd carried for him since that first night in his cabin.

  Whichever the cause, Khalia knew one thing with total certainty:

  She was going to fuck the beast outta this man.

  Cupping her chin Dee tilted her head upward, delving his tongue deeper. A whimper escaped and Khalia's mind short-circuited. He cupped her ass and lifted her out the truck, never breaking for air. She wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her face in his neck, and biting down enough to elicit a throaty moan. He kicked the truck door shut and started toward the lit path.

  "Think we'll make it? What about our bags?" Each word slipped out between kisses and nips. He slipped a hand in his pants to adjust the tent, causing his dick to poke out the waistband.

  "No. No we won't. I'll buy us new ones."

  "Dee, let's check in firs-"

  WHACK!

  Khalia barely had time to catch her breath before something sharp struck her temple. Pain exploded above her right ear. The warm trickle of blood followed a dull thunk as the rock landed by Dee's feet.

  "What the fuck!" she hissed, wriggling free and leaping from his grasp.

  They turned, shoulders tense, as they faced a group of four standing just outside the lanterns glow. A woman at the front lowered her arm, her posture dripping with self-satisfaction.

  Khalia's pulse pounded. She wiped the blood from her eye, already sizing the girl up-satin skin, barefoot, faded denim shorts, a pink halter top, and a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

  "Touch'em again, and I'll aim higher!" the woman snapped. Her accent sounding of grated cheese.

  Khalia blinked, then glared. "Excuse me you scallywag ass bitch!"

  The girl jutted a hip, flipping her waist-length ponytail over one shoulder.

  "He's mine. My Fated. What part of that aint clickin in that massive dome ya got?"

  The words sent a chill down Khalia's spine. She turned to Dee, expecting immediate denial, but found him eerily still. Black eyes became golden, lips pressed in a tight line, and a muscle in has jaw tickled. Diem was here.

  "You're mistaken."

  "Like hell I am!" The woman folded her arms.

  Silence stretched between them, thick as the bayou air. Khalia studied Diem's face, waiting for a reaction...anything other than this unnerving stillness. He exhaled, sharp and controlled, like a gunman steadying his aim. His hands flexed at his sides.

  "Say you are," he muttered, his voice low but edged with something dangerous.

  The woman's chin lifted. "You know who I am."

  Khalia's stomach twisted, the knot tightening with each passing second.

  Diem's head tilted and he sneered, eyes narrowing like a predator locking onto prey. His lips curled-not in fear, not in regret, but something darker.

  A humorless laugh rumbled from his chest. "That so?"

  The woman's smirk faltered for the briefest moment.

  Khalia glanced between them, pulse drumming. His reaction, no shock, no hesitation...just something coiled beneath his skin, ready to snap. He took a step forward. The woman stiffened, but he didn't stop.

  Another step.

  Another.

  Until he was close enough for the woman to see the glint in his eyes-pure, molten fury.

  "This some kind of joke?" His voice was quieter, but no less lethal. "If it is, you picked the wrong night and likely wont see another."

  The woman swallowed, stepping back. "It's not a joke."

  His smile was all canines. "Then it's a lie."

  A cold weight settled in Khalia's chest as her counterpart whined. This wasn't just anger-this was something deep, personal.

  "Y-you know it's true."

  Diem's eyes blackened. "Oh," His tone dripped with perverse mockery "Do all your lies end with you as a corpse, or am I just lucky tonight?"

  Khalia barely noticed the pain in her skull anymore. The way Diem was looking at this woman...she's seen before in someone else.

  Not recognition.

  Not confusion.

  Just the promise of violence.