Jessica Sims - Wanted - Wild Thing

And then maybe I could make a counteroffer.

It didn’t fix all my problems—I still had to find my True Love, or at least a man to take my virginity while I was in my scaly form—but it was a start.

I had to admit, though, I was pretty curious about Hugh.

I gestured at my closet door and Hugh moved in front of me. There was something wild about Hugh . . . and it wasn’t just his very obvious cat-shifter side. Maybe it was the way he moved, or the fact that his clawed feet were still bare, or those tufts at the square of his jaw and the wild braids in the tangle of his striped hair. There was something about him that screamed feral and predator, and it appealed to me despite my love for pink and fluffy things. He was neither, but . . . I liked that about him.

As I watched, Hugh took off his necklace. He lifted one arm (which was thick with muscle and deeply tanned) and traced the garnet around the edges of the door, including the carpeted floor. Once he’d made a perfect rectangle, he stepped back and put the necklace on again.

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at my closet door skeptically. “Nothing happened.”

“Patience, little changeling,” he said with amusement. He looked down at me. “And remember—”

“I know; we can’t talk about this.” I held my pinky out. “You can trust me. Pinky swear.”

“I was going to caution you to stay close to me.” He eyed my outstretched finger. “What is a pinky swear?”

“Oh. Um.” I lowered my hand. “You lock your little finger with another person’s and it’s an agreement.”

“A binding agreement?”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “Totally binding.”

He held his claw-tipped pinky out to me. “Then I shall do this pinky swear with you.”

Touching Hugh could trigger my changeling side . . . unless he was my True Love, like the fortune-teller had told me. I hesitated, then extended my pinky. Just another frog to kiss . As his finger linked with mine, I immediately felt my monster ripple under my skin. I ripped my hand away, shaking it as if it had been burned.

So Hugh wasn’t The One. I ignored the disappointment in my gut. I still had a month to kiss frogs. I was going to be okay. I was.

“Are you well?”

“Touching someone does bad things to me,” I reminded him.

“Changeling,” he agreed. “I thought it only affected you if you were attracted?”

My face grew hot. That was how it was supposed to work, yeah. “Maybe mine’s just really sensitive right now,” I muttered.

“Perhaps,” Hugh said.

How embarrassing. I crossed my arms over my chest again, staring at my closet door and waiting.

Sure enough, as moments ticked past, it began to change. It was subtle at first. I heard the sound of crickets and smelled damp moss. Fog began to spill out of my closet, and stars began to twinkle as the sound of rustling leaves drew my attention. I stepped forward in wonder, staring at the space where my closet door hinged.

It was like watching a slowly developing photograph. It darkened into shadow and slowly changed, and I began to pick out scenery. Wet, swampy marshlands in the distance. Large, leafy trees rustling in a breeze that now ruffled my hair. It was nighttime in that other realm, and the mist was full of fireflies.

“Holy cow,” I breathed. “That is so cool.”

“Fae magic is quite impressive,” Hugh said in a flat voice that implied that he found it anything but. “Follow. Stay close to me.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I wanted to put my hand in his, but I couldn’t touch him. So I grabbed one of his bell-shaped, heavily embroidered sleeves and clasped it as he moved forward.

We stepped through the portal, and I was hit by a wall of humidity. Immediately, I blanched. I was accustomed to air-conditioning in the summer. This . . . felt disgusting. It was so starkly humid that I could practically feel the dampness in the air sliding over my skin. It was at least ninety degrees, too. “Ugh. Is it summer here?”

“We do not have seasons like your realm does. It is always like this,” Hugh said, his voice sounding hollow as we stepped through. “Stay close.”

I glanced behind us. The portal was fading as we stepped away, my comforting, cheery bedroom disappearing as I stared at it. That made me nervous. “How do we get back?”

“We find another place to make a portal.” Hugh strode forward, jerking his sleeve out of my grasp before I could protest. “Come. Follow.”

I followed as best I could, though it didn’t take long before I was lagging behind. For one, it was clear that changelings didn’t have the night vision that primordials did. I couldn’t see a thing beyond a few feet ahead, and I had to focus to keep Hugh in my sights. My sneaker pumps, not made for this kind of terrain, squished on the muddy ground and sank a bit with each step. This was some sort of disgusting swamp, I decided, judging by the immense number of bugs that flew through the air and started to land on my skin. An enormous dragonfly buzzed past, startling the hell out of me. A fly as big as a canary landed on my arm and I yelped, slapping it away.

“Hssst,” Hugh said, turning to glare at me. His eyes gleamed like saucers in the low light.

“I’m not used to bugs that size,” I told him, raking a hand down my arm again. My skin was tingling and damp, and I didn’t know if I was sweating or if it was just the humidity. Either way, it was gross.

Then my back suddenly ached, my tracksuit jacket growing tight over my shoulder blades. My skin rippled and I dropped to my knees, a low moan of fear escaping my throat.

Hugh was at my side immediately, his hands going to my waist as he tried to bring me back to my feet. “Ryder?”

I slapped his hands away and collapsed again. “Don’t touch me!”

My beast was coming. Oh, God, oh, God. In front of Hugh, too. Shame wracked me, mixed with pain and fear. My hands crept over my face to shield it from his gaze. Not now. Not in front of someone else.

“Are you changing forms?” Hugh asked, his voice low. One big hand touched my back.

I shied away from his grasp, hunching low and folding my body tight. Maybe if I concentrated hard, I could get this under control. Even as I told myself this, my mouth filled with hot, metallic blood, and fangs tore through my gums. “Don’t look at me,” I whimpered. “I—I’ll be fine in a minute.”

To my surprise, a big, heavy hand stroked my damp hair. “I worried that this might happen,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to concern you, but . . . the fae realms have a strong effect on most. Your other side is emerging because this place calls to it.”

“Take me back,” I moaned. I didn’t want to be this thing. “ Please .”

“We have to find another gate,” he told me. That big hand stroked my hair again, trying to soothe me. “Are you afraid I will think you are hideous?”

Was he kidding? I knew I was hideous. The creature I turned into had hard, scaly skin, horns on its forehead, and bony protrusions on its cheekbones. Ugly, membranous wings shuddered and pushed through my skin, my shoulders on fire, my clothing tight. My tail bulged and snaked along one leg of my pants, trying to emerge. And all over, my skin ached as it scaled over and turned hard.

A sob escaped my throat, humiliation burning through me. My body hurt, my soul hurt, and to make matters worse, I was going to have to rip off my clothing. “Hugh,” I moaned, my clawed hands flexing. My voice had gotten raspy and deep, my vocal cords shifting to something more feral. “You should get away.”

“I am not afraid of your tiny claws, little changeling,” Hugh said with amusement. “Mine are much bigger.”

“I . . . need to take my clothes off,” I rasped. My wings ached, desperate to escape, and it took everything I had not to rip through my top like the Hulk. “Please . . . don’t look.”