Fangs and Fur- Beta Read Along
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 by LA Magill. All distribution rights reserved for the exclusive use of Wicked Women LLC.
Hadrian stayed awake just long enough to feed again, though his brow had pinched into a glum expression when she’d offered him the baby bottle. He’d insisted on unscrewing the top and drinking from the glass cup. She thought no less of him for having bottle-fed him like a babe, but kept her amusement over his unspoken embarrassment to herself.
His body began healing before her eyes. Fleshy ripples waved under his skin as magic generated missing muscles with paranormal speed. It must have required an enormous amount of energy. The vampire could hardly keep his eyes open after he swallowed the last drop. Still, he caught her gaze one more time before he drifted back into deep sleep. He lifted his hand and tucked a mucky strand of hair behind her ear, just as he had when he’d reached through lightning to kiss her.
“You stayed,” Hadrian murmured, a mixture of disbelief and surprise in his tone.
Sleep pulled him into unconsciousness before Dili could reply. She caught his hand as it dropped like a stone. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her lips shut, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. She lay back down next to him, holding his hand in hers, and succumbed to exhaustion.
Dili slept long past daybreak. She awoke in the afternoon, judging by the long shadows on the ground. She felt groggy and ached all over, and still held Hadrian’s hand. His fingers curled snugly around hers. The vampire lay unbreathing, but his body shifted and creaked and popped as the blood magic reversed the damage.
The witch spent the remaining daylight cooking for herself and making more solution for Hadrian. The family continued to bustle about their daily lives in ignorant bliss, following the same routine she remembered.
It felt surreal to use the ancient kitchen again. She’d never quite gotten used to the blazing speed and bold flavors of modern cuisine, so she relished the longer preparation, slow cook, and bland meal of stewed grains. She added some salt and pepper from her right pocket, though. To her surprise, while she appreciated the ancient fare, her tongue craved seasoning.
A waxing moon hung low on the horizon, a silver light sparkling on the sliver of water Dili could see from the doorway, when Hadrian woke again. His deep voice rumbled, then he struggled up onto all fours with a pained grunt. She rushed to help him, but he pushed her hands away and staggered upright. He stumbled out of the fishing hut, muttering for her not to follow. Dili hesitated, but she stayed put when she heard the unmistakable sound of a forceful stream arcing into the river, followed by a long sigh.
Dili waited until the noise had completely stopped, then waited a couple of minutes more to be polite. She emerged from the fishing hut to a beautiful sight. Hadrian stood tall and relaxed at the edge of the water, his back to her. His hands hung at his sides, and his head tilted up toward the sky. His long hair gleamed, and his pale skin glittered like snow. His mostly naked body was still far too thin, but the lines of his new muscles curved with a dancer’s grace.
She walked out to join him. She stopped at his shoulder, and he reached for her hand. The gesture sent a tingly sensation down her spine. She took his hand and squeezed, delighting in the feel of his cool palm against hers. They stood together for a moment of shared peace, drawing comfort from each other’s breaths.
“Where are we?” Hadrian’s voice was steadier than before, though still rough at the edges.
“We… well, we…” Dili should have thought of what she would say when he woke up. At least where she should have started, because really there was too much to explain. She sighed.
“A fishing hut. I used to come here when—” She paused, weighing her words. “When I wanted to escape the city.”
“Which city?”
“Several.”
Hadrian turned and pulled on Dili’s hand so they faced each other, then he let go. They stared at each other. She noted his eyes were still bright green, though not as neon as before.
“You must be hungry,” she said.
Hadrian grimaced. “The First witch was supposed to be dead.”
His deep voice had come out flat. Hollow. Dili bit her lip, and his frown sagged down his face. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words came to her defense.
“Why did you lie to me?” he asked, unable to conceal the tinge of hurt in his tone.
“I… uh, I didn’t remember that I am the First when you asked.” Regrettably, she kept mumbling on. “In that moment, I mean. Then, I still forgot, but now I remember, so… That probably doesn’t, uh, help.”
Hadrian’s eyes narrowed with clear disbelief. “You… forgot?”
“Out there, yes,” she said.
“Out where?” Hadrian asked.
“Hadrian, what do you remember from… from before?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Out where, Dili?”
Dili couldn’t help rubbing her hands together. She didn’t understand why she felt so anxious in explaining this to him.
“You fell into my left pocket,” she blurted. “When you reached in, the magic swept you up and sucked you in before I could do anything about it. So, I came to get you out.”
Hadrian’s wary expression didn’t change for three heartbeats. Then something flickered behind his vibrant eyes—recognition, perhaps. Or recalibration.
“Did you just say I fell into your left pocket?” he repeated quietly.
“Yes. My dress is divine, you see, so the pockets are literal pockets of reality, and… a long time ago, I decided to store some of my memories in here. One of those memories was… is… who I really am.”
A flash of curiosity glinted in Hadrian’s eyes when she mentioned the divine nature of her dress, but suspicion quashed the hint of interest.
“I know how it sounds,” she continued when she saw his reaction. “But I’m not lying. I swear.”
“I fell into the ocean. There was no land, no ship, no way any walking creature could have survived. I… I drowned.”
“I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you,” she whispered.
Hadrian was silent for a long moment, his gaze calculating her earnest expression. Finally, he sighed and uncrossed his arms. He took her by the shoulders, and when she didn’t pull away, he wrapped his arms around her. She went stiff, still expecting his rejection even though he held her close to his chest.
“No, Dili. It is I who should apologize,” he murmured against the top of her head. “I couldn’t break Nile’s charm. This is my fault.”
The stiffness drained from Dili’s spine one vertebra at a time. She let herself lean into Hadrian’s chest, her forehead finding the hollow of his shoulder. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his slender waist.
“How arrogant,” she said lightly. “It takes a divine miracle to resist a siren’s charm.”
He grunted. “When did you last eat?”
“Just this afternoon.” Dili’s stomach, though, answered with its own embarrassing growl.
Hadrian’s arms loosened just enough to let him pull back and look at her face. Those vivid eyes locked onto the shadows beneath her own, the exhaustion she couldn’t hide. “You’re as spent as I am.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She tried to sound strong, but a tremor in her tone betrayed her.
Hadrian’s lips quirked up in a tender smile. “It matters to me.”
Next chapter on Friday, January 9.