Soulshift

by Arizona Tape

  "Good morning," Devon said, his voice low, rumbly and delicious. Hmm. I really shouldn't have frozen up. If I'd let him carry on then we could be doing far more than lying in a bed not touching each other.

  "Morning," I replied, feeling irrationally nervous. It was odd. The whole situation was odd.

  "How did you sleep?"

  Wow, was this their normal morning ritual? If so, then I suddenly felt a hell of a lot better about how Sian and I had been all these years. Least our wake ups were...warm? Affectionate? Not oddly detached and cold.

  "Yes, very." No, not at all. I'd tossed and turned and hardly slept, or I had on my Ayra-Ayra side, not on my Ayra-Tate side. Wow, that sounded weird even to me. And was it my body that got sleep deprived? Or was it my mind? Because clearly my mind was what travelled with me. "What about you?"

  "Not bad. But only because you forgave me." He reached down and took one of my hands in his, giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze.

  Wait...I forgave him? What needed forgiving? Had he and Tate fought? That shouldn't fill me with the same satisfaction that it did. But there was something about Devon that made me want to shout mine.

  "Mmm."

  "I'm sorry for pushing you about babies again."

  What?! He wanted kids? And Tate didn't? Was she crazy? This man would make the most adorable father ever, I could tell just from the short interactions he'd had with Tate's brother yesterday. It'd been so sweet.

  "That's okay," I responded, feeling like it was what Tate might have said. I was likely wrong though. But still...no babies...that was just…

  No, Ayra. Stop it.

  What weird twist of fate had landed me in bed with a man I barely knew thinking about having his children. No, thinking about Tate having his children.

  Jealousy rose up inside me at the mere thought, and I pulled away, swinging my legs out of the bed and letting them hit the floor.

  "Tate?" he asked, and I turned slowly, surprised to see a frown marring his perfect features.

  "Yes, Devon?" I smiled sweetly as I said his name, and not just because the sheet had fallen away, and his sleep shirt had ridden up, revealing a hard, chiseled chest. I could get used to seeing that every morning. And night. And mid-afternoon. Hmmm.

  Why on earth did Tate make him wear clothing to bed? The spoil sport.

  "What's with you today?"

  "Oh, just lots to do," I chirped, and watched as the frown deepened. Oh, shit. Not a Tate thing to do then.

  "With Lola?" he asked, confusion making way for disappointment. Okay. Not the best thing to say either.

  Quick, Ayra. Think. How were you going to rescue this one?

  "With you, silly." On a whim, I leaned down and flicked his nose, gently, and so it definitely wouldn't hurt him.

  "Erm, Tate, I have work."

  "But I thought we were going to..." I trailed off, my lame attempt at covering my back failing miserably. Damn it, he did all kinds of weird to me. He was also looking at me with another odd expression on his face. Clearly I wasn't acting like Tate would. Problem was, I had no idea what to do about that. I knew nothing about her. I still hadn't figured out what she did with her time, despite spending time with her family, and in her home.

  "I'm not in work until this afternoon, but we can do something this morning?"

  I was surprised he phrased it as a question. Was Tate not a morning person? That wasn't going to suit me at all. I liked to make the most of my weekends, something to do with working all week. Maybe Tate worked from home then?

  "Sounds good, I'll grab a shower." Institutionally, I headed off to the left, pleased to find myself in what appeared to be an en-suite wet room. I stripped off my pajamas and pressed a button in the wall, and water began to pour from, well, everywhere. It steamed up quickly, and my body relaxed at the mere suggestion of the heat and power of the water pounding down onto me.

  Though I was a little bit concerned that the shower-waterfall-thing was going to be too hot for me. I was cold-blooded after all. Sort of. It was actually kind of hard to define a vampire's blood type.

  Almost reluctantly, I stepped into the shower. But reluctance wasn't quite right. There was something that called me to the water. It wanted me and I wanted it. Almost like blood was supposed to make vampires feel. Just not me.

  The water pounded down, and despite the steam, it didn't feel nearly as hot as it should. In fact, it barely felt hot at all. But the soothing effect of the water was undeniable. If only I had a hot hard man in here with me. Water droplets running down his skin. Even the image of that just made me want to lick the water off his abs and...

  Stop.

  I couldn't be having these thoughts. I'd only broken up with Sian last night, and if that wasn't enough, Devon was still with Tate. Until he wasn't, nothing would happen between us. All I needed to do was convince him and Tate of that.

  Yep. No problem. Except that Devon would think I was bat shit crazy, and Tate was unreachable as far as I knew. Damn it, why hadn't I memorised my number yet? It was a real issue.

  After finishing my shower, I pulled on the comfiest, but girliest, clothes that Tate owned. Which wasn't to say much. Though luckily, there'd been one blue soft cotton sundress. It fit me perfectly, though that wasn't much of a surprise really. Tate's body was identical to mine after all, and was actually comfortable. As well as making my boobs look freaking fantastic.

  I hoped Devon liked it.

  I made my way into the kitchen, having heard the tell-tale clicks and clacks of someone cooking. Hot, sweet and he could cook? I needed to make this man mine before another woman found and claimed him. Well another woman other than the woman he was already with.

  Damn, that was confusing even in my own head.

  "Hey," I said cheerily as I entered. Devon turned and gave me a winning smile as he stirred something on the stove. I didn't care what was in that pot, but it smelled delicious and I wanted it now.

  "Hey, you're really cheery this morning."

  "Of course," I replied, making my way over to him and slipping an arm around his waist without thinking. His sea breeze scent wafted up to my nose. Oh wow, he smelled yummy.

  "But it's morning, Tate?"

  My stomach flip-flopped at her name. And not because I liked it either. Actually, I think I was beginning to hate it. I didn't want to hear him calling me Tate. I wanted to hear him say Ayra. Or sigh it. Or groan it. Or all three. Oh, yes, that'd be good.

  "Yes?"

  "You hate mornings," he pointed out with an amused grin, his dark blue eyes searching my face. Though for what, I wasn't so sure.

  "Not this one." I smiled, hoping this wasn't all too out of character.

  Actually, no. I hoped it was too out of character. Then maybe he'd start questioning it. Like Sian had with Tate. Maybe he'd come to the realisation of who I really was on his own. Then he'd sweep me into his arms and...

  I really needed to get a grip on myself. I was slowly becoming nothing more than a big pile of goo.

  "You showered, right?" he asked, his eyebrow drawing together.

  "I hope so, you watched me go into the wet room," I reminded him. I knew he'd watched. I'd been able to feel his eyes boring into my back.

  "Did you wash your face?"

  What an odd question. What else did one do in the shower? Saying that, I could think of plenty more exciting things to do in there, but I'd been alone. Now, if he'd been there...I wouldn't have been responsible for my actions.

  "Yes, I washed my face," I replied slowly.

  "Huh." He let the spatula in his hand go, letting it rest on the side of the pan. He lifted it to my face, and brushed the sensitive spot at the top of my cheek.

  "You've got scales," he said reverently.

  "I've got what?" I half-screeched, though not too loudly thankfully. I didn't want to scare him off already.

  "Scales, Tate, scales. It's finally happening!"

  Wow. He looked like a child first thing on Christmas morning. Which was really end
earing, but completely confusing. Why on earth would I have scales? I was a vampire, I had fangs and...wait. Did I have fangs? I ran my tongue over my top teeth, looking for slightly sharper incisors I was used to.

  Okay, so, not a vampire. That made sense though, if I thought about it. I'd just been thinking about Tate as the non-vampire and still identifying as one myself. Which explained how great I'd been feeling. It wasn't because Tate was drinking blood for me at all, it was because I didn't need blood in this body.

  So, if I wasn't a vampire, then what was I? Devon must have seen the conflict on my face, though he couldn't even begin to imagine what it was really about, I was sure of that much. He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall to the small bathroom I'd escaped to the first time Tate and I had swapped. No, that was the second, I think. I had to remember to count the first dream-man experience.

  He braced my shoulders and turned me towards the mirror. The bright blue eyes I'd seen the last time met mine, but that wasn't where my attention stayed. Because he was right. There, just beneath my eyes, and stretching over the length of my cheekbones, were small blue scales.

  Blue like my eyes. Like Mediterranean sea when the sunlight reflects off it. Scales. But that meant...

  "I'm a dragon." I lifted my hand to my cheek and touched them, the cool smoothness surprisingly reassuring. Behind me, Devon chuckled.

  "That you are." He kissed my cheek gently. Surprisingly, I felt it even through the scales. I hadn't expected that really.

  "A dragon," I whispered. I really couldn't get it through my head. Of all the creatures in all the world, I'd ended up in a dragon's body? How freaking awesome was that?

  Chapter 12

  The warmth from the fire flickered against my skin. I was sure the light did too, but I'd have to open my eyes to discover whether that was true or not. I was surprised I'd fallen asleep at all. I didn't sleep during the day, mostly because I knew that once I started, it'd be a habit I couldn't break, and with the blood exhaustion...yes. It just wasn't a good idea.

  But after Devon had left for work, I'd made my way into what turned out to be the most amazing home library I'd ever seen before. There were tall wooden shelves packed with books, and comfy velvet chairs, and a fire that had still been simmering in the grate. Effectively, it was book lover heaven. Even more so when I'd found the classics section.

  I didn't know where my love of old stories had come from. Maybe it was to do with being able to quiz other vampires on what had actually been going on at the time. I could remember an old French friend of my Father's telling me all about the real events behind the story in Les Misèrables. I'd only have been maybe eleven, but I'd sat at his feet listening in rapt attention as he told me it all in his thick accent.

  And it was the same with the rest. Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde, Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley...each created something that was shaped by the times they lived in. For me, being able to find out about that time first hand made the books all that more enjoyable. Maybe some day, people would feel that way about today's literature. But not me. Not yet. I wasn't saying it was bad or anything, but it also just wasn't the same.

  "Tate?" Devon's voice called out through the apartment, shocking me slightly. I hadn't realised so much time had passed. Though I guessed it made sense. Reading and then sleeping took up a lot of time.

  "In here," I called back, hoping he was able to tell where I was. I didn't see why not. It was his home after all, and I imagined he'd know his way around it.

  My thoughts were confirmed mere moments later when he strolled into the room, another perplexed look on his face.

  "Were you reading?" he asked, pointing towards the book resting on the arm of my chair.

  "Yes..."

  Uh oh. Was reading not something Tate did either?

  "Did you look for any jobs today?" he asked softly.

  "No..." Shit. Was I supposed to do that? I didn't even know what Tate did, how was I supposed to look for jobs for her.

  "But you haven't been on your computer?" He seemed excited by this one. Maybe Tate spent a lot of time on it. Was she a hacker maybe? One of those people that broke into banks and let the robbers in? I shuddered. I sincerely hoped not. I didn't fancy getting stuck in her body if she was in jail at any point. That wouldn't be any fun. And it would be away from Devon, which was a definite loss if you asked me.

  "No..."

  He frowned. Probably something to do with the one word answers I was giving him, but I really didn't know what else to say. I clearly wasn't very good at faking being Tate.

  He moved so he was stood behind my chair and dropped a kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let out a soft hum. Yes, I could get used to a life with Devon. Forehead kisses were always going to be a way to win me over. There was just something so unbelievably romantic about it.

  He leaned forward and picked up the book I'd been reading, turning it over in his hands. "Pride and Prejudice?" he asked, and I could almost hear the surely raised eyebrows.

  "It's a classic," I returned instantly. I loved that book, it'd been nothing like I'd ever expected it to be. Much more readable. A lot of classics were unless you went as far back as Nosferatu, that one was a little more tricky, but fascinating on its take on vampires.

  "I know." He chuckled. "But last time we tried to watch it, you said the story was a load of anti-feminist crap."

  "The film isn't as good, true. But actually it's a pretty forward thinking piece for the time. Elizabeth has a lot more control over her destiny than most women," I pointed out. If there was one thing I'd defend to the ends of the earth, it was classic books. And Austen was one of my favourites. If I even had those. Really, I just loved books.

  "Yes," he said slowly, drawing out the word. Oops. Probably gave myself away a little there. But if he wanted me to keep pretending I was his fiancée, he shouldn't have started a conversation about books. "Though surely Little Women would be a better example of feminism in a classic."

  "Oh, you mean Jo. Yes, she probably is a better example than Elizabeth Bennett. But there's something a bit more romantic about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy don't you think?"

  "You mean the way she refers to him by his surname the entire time? Hardly feminist, don't you think? Or are you going to start calling me Mr. James, Tate?"

  I twisted my head so I could see him, and noticed the small smile twisting at the side of his mouth. Hmm, two could play this game. I knew Tate's surname after all.

  "How dare you be so improper, Mr. James. I'll have you know it's Miss Orrin to you. Miss Tatiana if you really must," I said with as much indignation as I could muster. Had I been stood up, I'd have put my hands on my hips to emphasis the point.

  "Very well, Miss Tatiana. But you've seen nothing yet if you think that's improper," he murmured, leaning in so his lips were much closer to mine. His words, and his proximity, sent shivers down me, even if he had used Tate's name. I was pretty sure my brain was switching out hers for mine anyway. It had to be, or there was no way I'd be able to stomach it.

  I wanted to close the distance between us and initiate a kiss, but something was holding me back. Perhaps the guilt over him not knowing I wasn't Tate. Or maybe it was something more than that. Maybe it was about what had been missing with Sian. Maybe it was that I needed someone else to make the move sometimes, to prove to me I was wanted as much as I wanted them.

  Oh shit. How had I never realised that was what it was about? My insane need to be wanted. Poor Sian, it couldn't have been easy to deal with that all the time.

  But now wasn't really the time to think about it. Not with a tall, ridiculously hot dragon shifter so close to me. Because I was convinced Devon was a dragon too. No one actually knew much about them. Mostly because they kept to themselves. But Tate's parents had been accepting of him, so he must be the same kind. Nothing else made sense.

  "How about you show me improper, Mr. James," I said through baited breath. I had no idea where the words had come from, I really shouldn't be encourag
ing him. He was engaged, I shouldn't forget that. How I was forgetting that with the rock on my finger was a question for another time.

  "With pleasure." He leaned down the rest of the way and pressed his lips to mine. I'd expected something hard and demanding, but instead, his kiss was full of emotion. Desire, sure, but there was a major undercurrent of love and affection. Damn, he really really loved Tate, and here was me just getting in the way.

  Even as I was kissing him back, I felt the tears begin to fall. Not massive blubbery ones, just soft drops trailing down my face, but it was enough.

  Devon pulled back, an alarmed expression crossing his face when he noticed the tear tracks down my cheeks.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, smoothing them away with his thumbs. It only made me want to cry more. I wanted him for my own so badly. And really for my own too.

  "Sorry, yes. Happy tears," I half-lied, hoping he'd buy it. From the expression in his eyes, I was going to say no, but hopefully he'd let it drop. I could see from his face that he wasn't sure whether to or not. My heart swelled. The easy thing to do would be for him to take my words at face value, especially since I got the impression that Tate didn't really open up to him that much, but instead, he was actually considering whether to pry into how I was really feeling.

  Why did he have to be so perfect?

  Why did he have to be what Sian wasn't?

  Why did I have to like him so much?

  "Why don't we go have some dinner?" I asked instead. There was no point exploring my conflicted thoughts with him. It'd just send him running. And at least this way, I had a chance of spending more quality time with him.

  "Sure, what take out do you want?" he sighed, whether with relief or disappointment, I didn't know. It was really hard to tell. Likely a bit of both then.

  "Take out? Why can't we cook?"

  "You mean together?" His eyebrows shot up. Oh. He probably hadn't been expecting that one then. I'd already figured out Tate wasn't a cooker, I shouldn't have offered. But I loved to cook, and I lo...nope. Best not to go there. For all I knew, it was just Tate's latent feelings reacting to him and not my own. Then again, Sian's reaction suggested they might not be...