Nature of the Beasts by Trista Ann Michaels Page A

protected dimension. Because the protected dimension was essentially created by magic, magic had more power here.
    “How so?” Dmitry asked.
    “I’m not sure. It’s weird.” She turned her head and met his gaze. “I still want you, though. It’s insane just how bad it is.”
    Dmitry was momentarily speechless at just how forthright she’d been. He truly expected her to dance around the subject or just flat-out deny it. Her honesty surprised him.
    “Why, Dmitry?” she asked. “I’ve heard of how shifters are when they first meet their so-called mates, but I’m not a shifter.”
    “Are you sure about that?”
    Sarah’s eyes widened. “Of course, I am.”
    “How old were you when your mother stopped your aging process?”
    “I was about halfway through my twenty-third year.”
    Dmitry raised an eyebrow. The antiaging spell had been put into place before her twenty-fifth year, which was when she would’ve gone through her Ascension. At twenty-five, she should’ve shifted for the first time.
    Sarah shook her head in denial. “No.” She turned to walk back into the penthouse, brushing past Dmitry angrily.
    “Sarah,” Dmitry said as he followed her.
    “No,” she snapped. “I’m not a shifter.”
    She spun to face him, hands on hips, eyes narrowed in anger. Dmitry stopped dead in his tracks. The image of her naked and angry, glaring at him as the moon reflected against her skin, made his whole body ache to have her. Her nakedness didn’t seem to bother her, or perhaps she’d forgotten. God knew he hadn’t.
    He lowered his gaze along her body, across her perky breasts, her flat stomach, flared hips, long, firm thighs, then back up to her face. The second his eyes met hers, he knew she’d realized.
    Although Sarah’s desire may have intensified, Dmitry’s suddenly lowered. He took a step closer and studied her eyes more carefully.
    “What?” Sarah whispered with concern.
    “Your eyes.”
    She raised her hand and touched her temple. “What about them?”
    She raised her other hand and conjured a mirror. With trembling fingers, she held it before her face and looked into it. She gasped and dropped the mirror to the floor, where it shattered.
    “I have eyes like yours,” she whispered.
    Dmitry wanted to grab her to him, hold her close, but he had a feeling that right now she would shove him away. She was becoming what she’d learned to distrust, to hate. Glancing down at the glass, Dmitry held his palm out. The mirror pulled back together in his hand.
    Walking over slowly, he moved behind Sarah and placed the mirror in front of her. She wouldn’t look at it. “I see beautiful eyes, Sarah,” he murmured. He kissed her temple, but she flinched. “Look,” he said.
    Her blue-gray eyes rimmed in black finally looked into the mirror. Tears gathered at the corners, and Dmitry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back against him. She didn’t push him away. Instead, she lifted her hands and held tight to his forearms
    “How could my mother have hidden this from me?” she whispered so low, Dmitry wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.
    She reached out with trembling fingers and touched the reflection of her eyes in the mirror. She then tilted it so that she could see Dmitry’s as well. For several seconds, she just looked. She didn’t say anything, but Dmitry could see the emotions in her eyes: the wariness, the fear, the confusion, the anger. Sarah could never hide her emotions from her eyes.
    Then suddenly…distance. She was going to shut him out.
    She lowered the mirror. “We need to check on the house and the ranch hands.” Sarah pushed away from him and, with a wave of her hand, covered both of them in clothes.
    Dmitry didn’t say anything. Her cold dismissal was like a stab to his heart. It actually hurt him, and he’d never dealt with that kind of hurt before.
    Sarah spun around to face him as she adjusted the waistband of her jeans. “I do not want to have to report the