A Shifter's Curse, Raven Steele [the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT] 📗

to get used to the idea of roommates. I mean, I know I was the one who sought you guys out, well, you anyway. Samira was just a bonus—”

“—or a parasite.”

“But when I saw both of you in my house, I guess it made me nervous at first, but after a good night’s sleep, I decided it’s going to be fun.”

She carefully brushed at my wrist. My insides squirmed at her tender touch, and I rolled my shoulders back. I had never had anyone take care of me before. It was a strange feeling. But it was kind of nice, too.

Who knew I could be so emo? Three times in one night.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, her voice soft, yet the words wielded a sharp edge.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to get her mixed up in my business. Plus, she might not want a roommate that's a shifter. Some humans, the ones who knew about us, were not too fond of supernaturals.

"It was nothing. I was just playing a game with a friend."

"That involved horse crap and ropes?”

"He's a little off.”

"Can you cut it out already?" She laughed. "I know you’re a shifter."

My eyebrows lifted. "How?"

"Some witches have the ability to detect supernatural creatures. I happen to be one of them."

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because some supernaturals like to pretend they are normal because of horrible things they’ve been through. I wasn’t about to call you out in case you were one of those, but after seeing these,” her gaze dropped to my wounds, “I think you’re okay with being different.”

"And you’re okay living with a shifter?"

"I let you move in, didn’t I?" She turned my wrists over. "Now hold still. This might sting a little."

With her thumb on the tender part of my wrists, she lowered her head and began to whisper. It sounded like some kind of ancient language. I hissed when my skin began to burn as if someone was touching it with an invisible hot iron.

"That really hurts." I clenched my teeth.

She let go of my wrists. "Did magic do this to you?"

"I think the rope was spelled."

Lynx frowned. "Stupid bitches.”

"Do you know who did this?"

“Blond sisters, right?"

"How did you know?"

Her gaze lifted to mine. "They’re my cousins. I'd recognize their work anywhere."

I remembered Samira saying Lynx was a Morgan. Of course, they’d be related. I touched my wrists tenderly. “I hear they're a pretty big deal in this town."

"They're a big pain in my ass is what they are. But let's not talk about them.” She waved the topic away. “I can still heal you, but it's just going to hurt a lot. Or, you could wait a few days, and the spell will probably go away on its own.”

I shook my head. "I have to work tonight. It's probably bad form to be bartending with rope marks on my wrists. People might get the wrong idea." I raised my eyebrow. “Actually, that could be a little fun.”

“And dangerous.” Lynx walked to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "I don’t usually drink but there are exceptions. I was saving this for the night when I finally decided to tell my mother where she can stick it. You know, the whole liquid courage thing. But I think it will be better used in this situation."

“Thanks.” I accepted it from her and unscrewed the lid. After a nice long swig, I said, "I'll get you a new one. Or better yet, I'll teach you how to tell people off without any liquid courage. People say I'm pretty good at it."

She laughed. "That's probably what got you tied up to begin with.” When I didn’t argue, she took hold of my wrists for the second time. "Let's try this again. Try not to move."

The pain was just as bad, but since I knew what to expect, I kept my composure. The whole process lasted a full two minutes. When she was finished, my skin looked as good as new.

I held them up to the light and examined them. "Thanks. I think you even got rid of an annoying mole I used to have. Speaking of which, I've got this thing on my ass—”

"Stop!"

We both laughed and shared a swig from the whiskey bottle, despite it being seven o'clock in the morning.

"Well, I better get to work." Lynx picked up a fancy looking purse from off the counter.

"Where do you work?"

"My mother owns a clothing boutique store on Main Street. I‘m the manager. I get a pretty good discount if you ever want anything."

"Boutique? The word gives me chills.” I visibly shivered.

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” She smiled as she turned to go.

I stood up. ”Is Samira here?"

"She came in about an hour ago." She walked toward the door. "And for the record, I know that's not tomato juice in the fridge. But I think it's kind of funny she labeled it, so I’m not going to say anything."

She walked out the door, and I smiled, realizing that Lynx wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought. I think we might actually get along. Too bad it couldn’t last.

After I achieved my goal, I doubt anyone in this city would ever talk to me again.