Destined (Desolation #3) by Ali Cross

“My apologies. I merely—well, you do have stunning eyes.” Miri laughed. Laughed!
    I tugged her closer to me. “Whatever man, can you just get on with why you’re here?”
    “Certainly.” His tone sounded contrite enough, but I didn’t like the sparkle in his eye that told me he wasn’t sorry at all. “Your dream Miri, convinces me that we are on the right course. Except—” He looked at me and I had to lean away from the expression on his face. Because I knew that look. It was the look of a guy who was about to ask someone to do something really stupid and really scary that the someone could never say no to in a million years. And I think li’Morl saw that I knew something of what he’d be asking and that we both already knew I’d say yes, because he didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t come right out and ask me to sacrifice my life for Desi. 
    Because I already knew that’s what he was asking.
    And he already knew I would.

“ I guess the first thing, would be to explain my friend, here,” li’Morl said, nodding toward the dog. 
    And then the freakiest thing happened.
    The dog sat up on its haunches and, looking at me all the while, began to . . . change. I found myself standing, pulling Miri after me and putting the coffee table between it and us. I’m no chicken, but come on. Come. On . “What the hell?” I said, pointing out the obvious. “Is it like, a werewolf or something?” 
    li’Morl chuckled. “No.”
    Miri watched, her fingers clenched around mine.
    The Doberman stretched and thickened, its hair disappearing. I stared, my mouth falling open, and I didn’t even care that I looked like an idiot, as the dog became a guy right before my eyes. 
    “He can’t very well go around looking like that—” li’Morl said, indicating the white pleated skirt the dog-dude wore with a fancy “collar” and crown-thing. “And as yet, he has refused to wear anything more . . . modern.” 
    “Well, what’s his name?” Miri asked. But she didn’t wait for li’Morl to answer. In typical Miri fashion, she stepped up to the dog-dude, sticking her hand out in front of her. “Hi. I’m Miri. What’s your name?” She added her trademark thousand-watt smile and I knew the guy would be powerless before her. Even with bed-head and ratty sweats, the girl shone like a diamond. 
    Sure enough, Dog-dude bowed his head and muttered, “I am not worthy to take your hand, lady. But my name is Horonius, and I thank you for asking.”
    “Judging by your clothes, I kinda figured it would be something like that,” Miri said, patting him on the arm. When Horonius looked at her, his eyes bright with something like honor or awe, I realized he was really just a kid. A year younger than Miri, maybe. It was hard to tell because he was basically hairless—I couldn’t see a single one on his skin at all. And there was a lot of skin.
    Miri seemed to read my mind, because she said, “People really don’t go around dressed like that these days. I bet James’ clothes would fit you. If I got you some stuff, would you put them on?”
    Horonius shook his head the barest bit. “I could not, lady. It would not be right to do so.”
    Miri crossed her arms and got that look on her face I knew really well. There’d be no denying her. “Well, I don’t think I can talk to you while you’re dressed like a cabana boy in Vegas.”
    Horonius got this horrified look on his face, like the last thing in the world he wanted to do was offend her. “As you wish, lady.”
    Miri did this little head nod humph thing she did whenever she got her way, which way she was certain was the right way, and walked around the kid. She began raiding my drawers for clothing. 
    “Not my Grateful Dead shirt, okay?” 
    Miri looked up and rolled her eyes and my heart did this flip-flop thing it did whenever I got a jolt of love for the girl. She had me wrapped around her finger and I knew I’d strip the T-shirt right off my back and