Mikayla turned her head to see him, smiling weakly.
“Well, witch,” he murmured, trailing a finger along her jaw. “We should have done that much sooner.”
“Says the man who kept us apart,” she replied, still breathless.
He grinned and rolled closer. Mikayla smiled as he pressed a light kiss to her lips. “My abject apologies.”
She grinned. “As long as you do this again, I’ll forgive you.”
“Promise,” he replied, wicked plans dancing in his eyes.
He leaned back down to kiss her and Mikayla heard the telltale “poof” signaling the end of his transformation.
Mikayla sighed as the poodle appeared next to her. Looked like the magic had worn off and their time was up. Ciar whined in frustration and Mikayla couldn’t help agreeing.
“At least we got through the good part,” she told the dog as he snuggled up to her side.
Mikayla closed her eyes, absently stroking his soft fur. A smile curved her lips. Maybe there was a chance she could be the one to break the spell.
Even if it was only a tiny one.
Chapter Five
Morning sunlight flooded through the room as Ciar rested his head on his furry paws, watching the woman sleeping by his side. Normally he wasn’t the kind of demon who enjoyed staying in his lover’s bed all night. It was too personal, it made things complicated too fast. But with Mikayla he hadn’t been able to tear himself away. Not even after she’d slipped into such a deep sleep she never would have known he’d left.
What is it about this woman? he wondered for the hundredth time. There was a reason he kept all his relationships superficial. Life was easier that way. And safer all around.
Except nothing was ever simple with Mikayla.
He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he’d felt this way. It had nearly destroyed his family and sent him into exile. No, nothing good came from caring for lovers. He’d learned his lesson, hadn’t he?
Mikayla shifted by his side. Ciar turned back to her, helpless to do anything but enjoy the last few moments of quiet. Her sleeping face was relaxed in a peace he never saw during the day. Usually worry filled her eyes or, when he was lucky, lust. But she never looked as unguarded as she did now.
Her brown hair was tangled around her face and he longed to brush it away but for that he needed hands, not paws. He was still figuring out this cursed spell, but the limits were frustrating. Three times the magic had recharged enough to allow his transformation during the night and each time, he and Mikayla had made the most of it. The memory made him smile as much as a poodle could. She was glorious, his witch, even more so naked and writhing in pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to claim his true form now and wake her properly. Surely the spell would recharge soon. He just had to wait it out.
In sleep Mikayla clutched the pale-blue sheet to her chest but it rode low on her hips. He wondered if he could pull it down with his teeth without waking her. A night should have been enough to purge her from his system, but he wasn’t even close to being done with her. He might never be.
Ciar sighed softly. Mikayla was twisting his whole world around. Why was he so willing to forgive her for it?
He rested his head on his paws and settled in to wait for her to wake. It should have been a chore, but instead Ciar found he enjoyed the stolen moments. It was peaceful lying there, listening to her even breathing. When was the last time he’d been so relaxed? He couldn’t even remember.
Ciar had no concept of how much time passed before Mikayla inhaled deeply and opened her large green eyes. When her gaze landed on him she smiled in unreserved welcome. Warmth filled him at the gesture. Had anyone ever looked at him like that?
“Hi,” she murmured, not bothering to grab the sheet that pooled at her waist. “Can you change back yet?”
He gave her a little whine in response.
“Too bad,” she said. “We didn’t even scratch the surface of what I want to do with you.”
Ciar woofed in response, more than willing to pick up where they’d left off once he could regain his own form.
“Might as well get dressed,” she sighed, “since spending the day in bed is not an option.”
He watched her slip from beneath the covers as the familiar tremors ran through him. They were faint, nowhere near the power needed to shed his poodle form, but at least it was a good sign. A few more minutes and he should be ready to strip off the sweater she was currently pulling over her head.
Mikayla dressed quickly and Ciar mourned the necessity. He wished he could keep her in bed all day. Or all week. If it weren’t for this damn spell, he’d never let her leave the bedroom.
Of course, if not for the spell, he never would have made love to her in the first place. He nearly howled at the thought.