12 | Eden

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"You're early."

I watched my enemy walk toward me, sucking on his top teeth like he had just finished eating something. He was completely naked, but his clothes were tied around his ankle. Right, no one had re-upped on the spell that made their clothes shift with them. It was the job the Coven before me, to show loyalty and love to werewolves that did not deserve it. I guess it was my job now. However, if he didn't ask, I wouldn't offer.

Fynley shrugged, and his muscles rippled. The sun hit them in the most breath-taking way—if he wasn't the worst werewolf I had come across. "Someone told me they smelled a witch around our land." His voice was light, and, somehow, still cruel.

I braced myself for an argument. "Your land? This whole state belonged to witches at some point."

"At some point," he repeated, stopping in front of me. "Like the rest of history, though, shit changes, and people adjust."

That didn't make it right.

I didn't bother to argue with him, though. Instead, I stopped myself from taking a step back as his body heat seemed to envelop me. I looked him up and down, studying the chords of muscles that covered his entire both. Everything from his broad shoulders down to those impeccable abs and those toned calves was utterly perfect. I hated him but to deny that he was beautiful was a lie—which was something I couldn't do.

The Curse went deeper than being able to verbally lie. I couldn't form a lying thought—when I started, my mind immediately went to the truth.

"Put some clothes on so we can talk," I snapped, looking back at him.

His grin, feral, stretched from ear to ear and made me think I was seconds away from being his dinner. "Does my body distract you?" he asked. Fynley took another step closer, and I was forced to come face-to-face with his chest. Close enough I could see each line of his abs, each freckle, and a small, dark mark underneath his pecs.

A part of me thought about licking his nipple, just a small part.

"Look lower." His voice was husky and dry—it was the only way to describe it. It sounded a little hoarse, too.

I laughed. I had gotten my fill—and hadn't been disappointed either. "I've seen bigger," I told him.

It had been one of those freaky things, an abnormality, but it had been bigger.

Not better, though.

Fynley frowned. "You can't lie, can you?"

"I can't."

"You're telling me that this—" He motioned towards himself—"wouldn't fulfill you?"

"I'm telling you that I've seen bigger." I sighed, already done with his game. I didn't want to spend anymore time with him than w as necessary. I had to get back home and be with my Coven. My family. "You can do the meeting naked, if you like."

His frown deepened. "It's no fun if it doesn't make you squirm."

"You make me squirm," I admitted. "Just not how you think you do. Shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, I made my way across that open field, toward the small room that had been preserved for centuries. It was wooden and silver, spelled for peace like many things, although we would have full access of our abilities. It was just that your emotions were controlled when you entered the room.

As well as your words. Try as you might, lies were incapable.

The downside (or upside) to my ability was that I couldn't tell things I perceived as a lie. I could very well say I was my father's daughter because I believed that—but it didn't make it true. If my mom had an affair and I was an outside child, it didn't matter. Because I thought what I was saying was the truth.

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