Perfect Misfits by Lawna Mackie Page A

stupid, Fedor; we have it all here.” Her arms opened wide as she spun in a circle.
    “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. But, I can’t help think maybe we should go back to Levare. Knowing what we do now, we could be living like a king and queen.”
    She retreated from him and returned with the bowl. Her hand sank into the liquid and the black swirling water sloshed over the edges. A smile formed on her face. She removed her hand, which now swarmed with baby leeches.
    A mixture of sickening fear and excitement made Fedor cringe.
    Slowly, she lifted her hand to her mouth. Fangs replaced her once smooth, even, white teeth. Her lips wrapped around the first victim as it screeched with rebellion, and sucked up the bloodsucking creature.
    “Fedor, would you like one?”
    “You know I don’t eat those things.” he said, disgusted.
    Her eyes bore into his. “Lets see…you eat dead demon body parts, but this disgusts you?” Vicasha waved her hand in front of him.
    After her hand had been sucked clean of the little monsters, she sauntered in front of him—slow, calculated moves. The color of her skin had already begun to change from creamy white to a dull wrinkled grey. Her hair also turned before his eyes—no longer long, silky, and blonde, but stringy black. Chunks of it fell to the floor around his feet, leaving her with bald spots.
    Fedor closed his eyes, unable to look at the grizzly creature he knew would now stand before him. Her gnarled hands fumbled with the button on this pants. He was flaccid with revulsion. It happened each time the same way. Her arousal brought on her transformation. Fuck! I knew I should have drunk more .
    At least when the two of them had been deposited on Misfit Mountain, his form had not changed. Vicasha’s had. With his eyes still closed, he summoned a vision of Tempest. It was Tempest’s hand and mouth making him hard with her stroking and licking. He continued the dream, refusing to open his eyes.
    · · · · ·
    Fedor gathered his clothing and put his fur robe back on while he scanned the room.
    Damn .
    Why couldn’t he see it? He’d hoped that he wouldn’t wake Vicasha, but her voice startled him.
    “Looking for something, or just admiring my home?”
    The beauty returned.
    “Vicasha, where do you keep it?”
    A sore look crossed over her features. “She’ll never find even one of them, never mind two of them.”
    “She’s escaped again,” he ground out.
    Vicasha pulled the silk robe tighter around her waist before standing.
    “Pity.”
    “Show me where you’ve put it,” he growled.
    She stalked past him. “I don’t know what you find so special about that misfit.”
    She climbed a small set of stairs. At the top, she stopped and stared out the small window with her arms crossed over her chest. He followed her up the stairs to see what she was looking at.
    The view found him staring out into the marsh pitch, but what he’d never noticed before was the large gnarled tree in the very center of the hellish pit. A large, satisfied smile formed on his face.
    As fast as the smile formed, it disappeared with a gust of wind that tore through the room. Vicasha spun away from the window, leaping through the air and landing beside the fire pit with fangs and claws protruding, swiping at an unseen force.
    He ran down the stairs, hissing while spinning in circles. Minutes had passed when finally Vicasha stood up glaring at Fedor.
    “Didn’t you feel it?”
    His heart raced. “What is it?”
    She turned, looking around the room. “We are not alone.”

Chapter Eight
    Tempest’s eyes flew open and a shot of adrenaline sent blood pounding through her veins. She pushed herself up into a sitting position.
    By the light of the fire, she spotted Rogue sprawled out on the ground beside the straw bed where she had slept. Deep, even breaths and the gurgle from his throat told her he was asleep. She smiled for a brief second.
    Light coming in from the entrance of the cave