Rought – Made by Meghan

*‘Rought’ Guerra. Shifter. Illustration by* Nicole Deal.

The engine hasn’t even died before the driver’s-side door is opening, and a male steps out — dark-blond hair, naturally tanned skin, and shoulders so broad I’m surprised that he slips out of the car so agilely. Though he is clearly a shifter.

The moment his booted feet hit the ground and the energy underpinning the property rises to ghost his footsteps, I know that he is a … presence, a power. He’s in black jeans and a light-gray henley. He lays his hand on top of the Camaro, pivoting toward me — not bothering to look at the barn or the property or anything else as he reaches to shut the car door with his other hand.

He meets my gaze. His eyes are light colored, either blue or green, but I can’t tell which at this distance.

He’s still moving, hand running across the top of the car, then down the back window, then fingers only along the trunk.

He fucking caresses the fucking car as he crosses alongside it, then continues steadily toward me. And for a moment of utter insanity, I want it to be my curves under those fingertips.

The passenger-side door thunks closed. I feel Presh’s presence as well. But I can’t tear my gaze away from the golden god in worn black jeans taking long, steady strides toward me. I’m locked in his gaze.

The nearer he gets, the more I see … in his expression, in his body language, in the way his essence entwines with that of the property.

I’m not lightheaded.

I’m not beguiled or enchanted.

The nearer he gets, the more anchored I feel.

Not frozen. Not overwhelmed.

I’m in this moment. Breathing it. Savoring it. As if … as if … my very soul has been starved? And he is … he is …

– Awry (Conduit 1), Chapter 10 (slightly edited for spoilers)