The tightness in my chest eased in abundant gratitude that my hounds had made that decision for me. If I’d been the one to decide to change into my human skin, on my own, they would no doubt have teased me endlessly that I wanted to be in the form she thought of as a ‘gorgeous blond beast’.

Yes.

We’d heard every word she’d drunkenly ranted to herself the night before in her awful little home.

And the old stomach had gotten extra fluttery.

I closed my eyes, shedding my devil skin. Horns and tail retracted and disappeared altogether. Red skin became paler. My body shrank—not much—but enough that I was a believable human size.

A long, frightened shriek echoed somewhere above us … getting closer.

“Hurry, Boss!” the Hounds bayed in unison. “She’s almost here!”

I swiftly donned the shirt I’d been wearing the day before. There was no time to remove my slightly too-loose leather breeches and replace them with human denims as the swirling portal above us sparked with lightning. Her cries were so clear now.

And she tumbled out.

“Good work on the soft landing, Boss,” Beezle huffed.

I stared at the small, pale figure splayed out on the pile of cushions I’d placed directly under the portal. Her vibrant hair was a riotous mess, tangled over her face.

Her toenails were purple. Her legs were bare. Smooth.

Lickable.

For badness’ sake, SJ, act casual!

As she scrambled to her feet, her hair still tangled so thoroughly it was impossible for her to see anything. That red, lacy undergarment peeked out from underneath her T-shirt. The shirt had a picture of some very strange-looking women on the front, the words ‘Spice Girls’ emblazoned across it.

“What the … holy Hell, what just … where am I?” she panted, finally managing to clear her mass of hair from her face. She was white as a ghost, her freckles standing out in stark contrast. Her eyes were wide and very blue as she glanced around the black stone walls of my lair.

“Welcome, Jemma Bliss,” I greeted. My voice shook.

Finally her eyes darted to me, where I leaned against the wall. She blinked. Adjusted her glasses. Squinted at me.

“You!” she snarled. Her arms folded crossly, pulling the fabric of those spicy girls taut over her chest. The fabric was indecently thin, and her peaked nipples sat smack in the middle of two of them.

I inhaled in a silent plea for my sanity. Thankfully my hands were in my pockets, masking the very intense reaction my groin was having to her perky human breasts.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, tapping one bare foot against the lava-stone floor.

“I live here,” I replied, waving my elbows awkwardly to gesture around the space without having to remove my hands from my pockets. “Perhaps you should be asking yourself … why are you here?”