Forbidden Shifter
Chimaera
Even monsters get lonely. As I stare out at the never-ending flow of lava that streams past my little cottage, I sip from my mug of coffee and feel that terrible stirring within my belly that says I ache for company.
I ache for something to fill the loneliness that’s a forever part of a monster’s life.
That’s why I’d finally agreed to my friend’s insane idea.
Not because I had just bought my first pair of reading glasses, or that I’d noticed my hips crack when I moved sometimes.
Monsters don’t have midlife crises. Do we?
There’s knocking at my door, and I nearly drop my mug. Heart racing, I set down my favorite cup that says “Big Girls Need Love Too” and spin toward my door, winding through my little kitchen to my neat living room with statues of dragons and other “fantasy” creatures decorating the space.
I know my visitor can logically be only one person.
Yeah, I have a few monster friends that visit me up on my quiet volcano top, and every so often a monster hunter, but I’m only expecting one person today.
So logic says that’s who it is, even if after years of being hunted by gargoyles the old fear is hard to ignore.
Heading for the door, I fling it open, ready to shift into a fighting beast if needed.
But, of course, it’s only Aura. Her large, dark harpy wings fold behind her back as she grins at me.
Aura is technically half-harpy and half-witch.
She’s not one of the first Greek monsters, but also not young either by human standards.
Still, I was there when she was born, and there nearly every step of her life until she went out on her own.
She’d been like a daughter to me, but now we’re more like friends.
“Chiara! I can’t believe you’re finally going to do it!” Her grin widens, and she holds out something that looks like a package of coffee, but I know better.
I wave her inside. “Yeah. I never thought I’d be this desperate, but here I am.”
She laughs and rushes inside. “It’s not desperate! It’s smart!”
I shake my head, sighing. “Well, since I don’t have eligible bachelors knocking at my door, I guess it’s the only way to meet a guy.”
Closing the door, I follow her into my kitchen, and she sets the bag down.
I eye it like a snake ready to strike. “So how does it work?”
Her dark eyes meet mine, and she lowers her voice as if telling me a great secret. “All you do is put the mixture in as if you’re making a cup of coffee. You let it run through the machine, then you drink an entire mug full. One mug full.”
I wait. But she says nothing more. “And then what?”
“Then,” her face practically glows with excitement, “the spell will do the rest. You’ll find a man to pleasure you.
He’ll be someone who needs you as much as you need him.
And when you’re done, he’ll go. Easy peasy.
Just like you asked for. It isn’t a love spell.
Just a lust spell. Well, not even a lust spell.
It more brings souls with the same desires together. ”
I sit down at the little coffee table in the kitchen and eye the bag without touching it. For some reason, I feel a little sad.
“Chiara,” she says my nickname gently and sits down across from me, her voice tender. “You deserve to have something good happen in your life.”
“Why?” I ask, and meet her gaze.
She reaches across the table and takes my hands.
“There’s no one who suffers more than the female monsters.
You and I know that. You were raised alone in a cave.
You spent most of your lifetime isolated from everyone and everything.
And then you go out in the world only to discover that your ability to shift into any form makes you a monster. It’s terrible.”
“It’s not just that,” I say, struggling for the right words, a way to explain myself that doesn’t sound like I need a tiny violin for my sad story.
“Do you know what it’s like to only have people see me before they suffer great misfortune?
It’s a curse. No one has been happy to see me, other than the other monsters, my entire life.
What if this man realizes who I am and runs?
What if somehow misfortune finds him after we’re together? ”
She squeezes my hand. “Your curse won’t impact this. My magic is bringing the man to you, not your curse.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, needing to know.
All the legends about me might say I’m a beast, that I bring unhappiness everywhere I go and that I enjoy it.
But while some of that might be true, it’s a lie that I enjoy any of it.
I isolate myself here so that no one else will fall prey to my curse.
And by using this spell, I’m determined to fill a little bit of the loneliness inside of me, so I can continue to keep people safe, well, from myself.
“I’m sure,” she tells me, then releases my hand. “You deserve this. Truth me. Drink the brew. Then wait. What’s meant to happen will happen.”
“Will you stay with me while I take it?”
She frowns. “I wish I could, but I’m needed elsewhere.”
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and trying to sound confident. “No worries.”
She springs back up with a youthful smile, and we hug.
Then, she heads for the door. I stand and watch her take off into the sky.
Isolating myself was the right thing to do, but sometimes it’s hard.
The lava flows past my door, around the little island of my home, because that’s what it’s been enchanted to do.
And I try to pretend that doing the right thing is easy.
Even though I’m tired of pretending.
Going back inside, I shower and dry my hair.
In the mirror, I see a woman who is plain.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. A few wrinkles on my forehead.
A little bit of a sag at my neck. In human years, would I look forty?
Younger? Older? I have no idea. But I hope the man the brew brings will find me attractive.
In my closet, I select a long black gown.
Something that was so far in the back of my closet that I should’ve forgotten it was there, but never have.
I put it on, and it hugs my large curves.
There are two slits on the sides, and the skirt is see-through.
It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me miss my warm pajamas.
But this man is coming for sex, that’s all, so there’s no reason to pretend otherwise.
Is there?
No, there isn’t.
I go back to the coffee maker and pour in the brew. It’s dark brown, just like coffee, and when I turn the machine on, I sit back, watching the machine work its magic. One mug full. That’s what she’d said. And then, I’ll at least feel a little less broken and lonely.
Hopefully.
When the machine is done, I lift the coffee pot and pour the brew into my mug. I’m fully ready for the mixture to taste like hell, but I add a little milk and sugar, then take my first sip.
Hell, it’s amazing! It tastes like coffee, only better.
It steams as I drink it, clouding my vision.
One moment I’m sure it tastes like vanilla and hazelnuts, the next it’s like chocolate.
I finish the glass too quickly, then pour myself a second glass, and drink that too.
When I down the third mug full, I groan and lean back in my chair.
Suddenly, I remember what she said. One glass. I was only supposed to drink one.
What will happen now?
My heart races when I put my mug into the sink, and I begin to pace.
But the pacing doesn’t calm me, so I go outside.
Looking at the lava flow, I know what to do next.
I strip off all my clothes and wade into it.
The heat instantly calms me, and the steam rises all around me like a familiar friend.
Normally, I just wade around in the lava outside of my home.
But the brew has made me antsy, so I start to move up it, toward the top of the mountain.
I’ve gone further than I ever have before when I feel something strange beneath my toes.
Something hard and unfamiliar beneath the river of lava.
Taking a deep breath, I dive beneath the surface and wrap my hands around it.
A normal woman couldn’t have tugged it to the surface, but I put the strength of a god into my arms and hands and haul it up.
At the surface, I have to adjust my hold on it to keep it from dropping back down.
But when I do, I feel as if I’m hauling a person with me.
A person made of stone. As I kick and swim toward the edge of the lava, my feet touch another strange shape.
I make a mental note of it, then finish hauling the rock to the shore.
I push it out in front of me and freeze.
It’s a man made of stone.
I climb out of the water and stare down at a face carved as if by a loving hand. He’s huge, easily two feet larger than my short, round frame. How did it end up here?
And then I remember the other things I’d felt in the lava.
Going back, I manage to bring two more stone men to shore.
I check the lava carefully but find nothing else.
So then, I drag each stone statue back to my house and set them up out front.
The whole thing is…strange. Why would an artist leave such sculptures beneath the lava?
And what magic had protected them from the heat?
As I’m pondering what to do next, and if I should hide them before my sexy man arrives, the statues begin to shake and shudder. A gasp slips from my lips, and I step backward.
Within seconds where there were once three statues, three large men stand. Each is as different from the other as the sun and moon. The first man has wild, dark hair and dark eyes to match. The next has blond hair and eyes as blue as the sky. And the third has black hair and green eyes.
What is this? Real men from stone?