Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)(59)

“Oh, I can’t wait for you to see,” Astrid exclaims, her tone dipped in sweet excitement the way an ice cream cone might be dipped in chocolate. “We rarely get to meet people who have never seen magic before. Watch,” she encourages eagerly, and just then the crystal in her hand starts to glow a bright, luminescent spring green, giving off purple sparks so brilliant I shy away from them.

A tiny gust of heat assails me, and I close my eyes against the sensation. The second I open them, I’m no longer in a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. I’m in a black turtleneck sweater dress with a scandalous slit up the side. A pair of thigh-high black platform boots hug my long legs, and the entire outfit molds to every dip and bend of my body as though it’s painted on.

Holy fuck. Add a nifty utility belt, and I look like I could fight Batman.

My long brunette hair tumbles in loose curls over my left shoulder, clean and shiny and freshly styled. I somehow have makeup on that looks like it was applied by a professional, and I lean closer to the mirror and marvel at the smoky eye, peachy blush, and perfect nude lip color.

Holy shit. They just strobed me into looking like I belong on some who’s who fashion blog.

A wolf-whistle erupts from Perth behind me as I stare into the mirror, blinking, not believing my own eyes. I turn and marvel for a moment at my ass. Did they give me a magical BBL too? Because it has never looked better.

“Is this a trick mirror?” I ask as I run my hands down my stomach, unable to believe that what I’m seeing is really me.

“Psh, don’t insult my hemlines. Those spells took years of work,” Astrid retorts. “You look gorgeous.”

“You do,” Ruger’s honeyed voice agrees. “But you were before too,” he adds with a shrug, like he’s happy to take me all dolled up, but stripped down and natural is just as good.

I meet his gaze in the mirror, and we watch each other for a moment. The more we stare, the more I see etched in the planes of his face, in his warm gaze, in his easy smile. He’d take me in any way I offered. He’d savor, and admire, and relish me, and it’d be so easy for me to do it right back. It could be seamless…

Or, it could go like every relationship I’ve ever had and crash and burn, leaving me to dig my way out of the rubble.

Dropping my gaze, I inhale a fortifying breath. I swallow hard and glance down at myself, smoothing the fabric around my hips as I try to process just how intense and crazy all of this is. That’s when I notice that I also have panties on.

A magical thong.

“Um…so, is all this clothing in the back and you just spell it in place, or…?” I’m not quite sure how to ask if I’m wearing previously worn underwear. Please say no, please say no, I chant mentally.

“The rolls of fabric are in the back, but no, we whip up everything right here.” Astrid taps her crystal, and it emits a tiny purple spark like it’s eager to do some more showing off.

Thank fuck. I swallow a sigh of relief. So not ready to dive into a conversation about used panties and shifter hygiene.

Do I need to find a groomer in addition to a hair stylist?

I look at Astrid. “Don’t get me wrong, this is gorgeous, but I don’t think I need anything this nice,” I tell her, hoping it comes off more polite and less what the fuck.”

This is not exactly grocery-store attire. I’m not considering a change in career from vet tech to dominatrix, nor do I have the sudden urge to skin dalmatians and make a coat out of them.

“Who cares?” Perth argues. “You’re a knockout; you should definitely keep it.”

The compliment has a very, very mollifying effect on my uncertainty.

“You heard her, ladies, she wants practical. She’s new to the eerie world, bitten but not fully claimed; surely you can come up with something more pragmatic for her circumstances,” Karen encourages, but something in her tone has wary suspicion pecking up my spine.

“You make a good point,” Astrid chirps, and that makes me even more nervous.

And then Trista smiles, actually smiles, and I know I’m screwed.

I don’t even get a chance to protest before the witches wave their crystals in a sharp slashing motion, as if swinging swords, and a ripple of heat washes over me.

I stare into the mirror, utterly gobsmacked as my eyes trace over the very skimpy lines of a bright magenta lingerie set. The pushup bra has my breasts lifted to the high heavens and is covered in embroidered flowers. I’ve got a barely-there thong on and a garter belt that’s clipped to sheer thigh-high stockings that are the same color as the set.

Oh my god, did they give me a magical Brazilian, because there is nary a stray hair anywhere?

Several things then happen all at once. Karen starts clapping like this is exactly what she was talking about when she mentioned my needing more practical options. And then a savage roar fills the shop, and Ruger leaps for me.





19





PERTH





Screams fill the room as Ruger loses it and vaults for Noah. The witches are frozen in shock, mouths gaping, as he explodes forward out of nowhere. Our poor mate looks petrified.

“Shit! Stop!” I mentally yell, but he ignores me.

I shoot up from the sofa. Launching myself at him, with desperate adrenaline racing through me, I pump my arms and reach—reach—reach—